


Come Hell or High Water

by nillial



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Temporary Character Death, by that i mean lup is a lich, its a lup and kravitz friendship longfic yall!!!!!!, jump on this train, lup becomes a reaper which kravitz is Quite Mad about, lup is almost immediately captured by kravitz and is Quite Mad about it, lups on a mission to get back to her family and also ruin kravs afterlife, taako breaks his umbrella during pttm and doesnt see lup break out bc theyre racing, then kravitz is assigned to train her which they are both Quite Mad about
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:15:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 187,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22395403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nillial/pseuds/nillial
Summary: “Taako,” Hurley asks, “where’s your magic umbrella?”Taako looks behind him.He had tossed the Umbrastaff in the path of a neighboring vehicle, which was beginning to catch up to them. He sees them now, far in the distance, and he sees his Umbrastaff, too, lying dangerously close to its wheels. As if on cue, he watches the tires crush it to pieces.“Whoops,” he says.-Lup is trapped.And then she isn’t.---In which Taako breaks his umbrella during the Petals to the Metal race, unknowingly freeing Lup, who is almost immediately captured by Kravitz. After becoming a member of the Raven Queen's retinue with Kravitz as her trainer, she has two missions: 1) find her family, and 2) ruin Kravitz's afterlife.A story about enemies becoming friends and lost families finding their way back to one another.
Relationships: Barry Bluejeans/Lup, Kravitz & Lup (The Adventure Zone), Kravitz/Taako (The Adventure Zone), Lup & Taako (The Adventure Zone), Lup (The Adventure Zone) & Everyone
Comments: 1092
Kudos: 625





	1. Highway to Hell

Taako wants his fucking gold already. 

Nowhere in his job description does it say he’s obligated to enter a battlewagon race in order to recover some scrap of glorified cloth that the Bureau calls a relic. And yet, here he is, rapidly running out of spell slots trying to defend himself from racers on a murderous rampage. He’s so sick of this. 

Hurley speeds up, but the metal boar chasing them is faster. Before it gets too close for comfort, Taako turns around, carefully crawls on top of the seat, and points his Umbrastaff at it, preparing to cast Fireball. 

And then Hurley slams on the brakes.

Taako is yanked backwards by his harness and slams into the windshield. The Umbrastaff flies out of his hands and onto the ground below.

“Hurley, what the fuck?” he yells as she begins to reaccelerate, attempting to gain on their opponents.

“We were about to hit Merle!” she replies over the howling of the wind. “He rode that phantom binicorn thing in our way!”

“Then run over him!” Taako shouts. “He has the hit points!”

Hurley opens her mouth to respond, but then closes it upon glancing at Taako’s empty hands. “Taako,” she asks, “where’s your magic umbrella?”

Taako looks behind him.

He had tossed the Umbrastaff in the path of a neighboring vehicle, which was beginning to catch up to them. He sees them now, far in the distance, and he sees his Umbrastaff, too, lying dangerously close to its wheels. As if on cue, he watches the tires crush it to pieces. He almost  _ feels  _ it snapping, almost hears the faint crack it makes underneath the weight of the battlewagon despite the roar of the engines and the hollering of the racers around him. Before long, the umbrella’s remains disappear behind a curve and Hurley has reached her preferred speed of 197 miles per hour.

“Whoops,” he says.

-

Lup is trapped.

And then she isn’t.

She feels a great pressure that throws her against the walls of the umbrella, feels her jaw clamp shut and her fists ball up, feels the her nails digging into her flesh, feels, for the first time in a long time,  _ pain—  _ and then there’s light, and then there’s desert, and then there’s a million battlewagons blowing dust in her face.

She struggles to peer through the bright sunlight, but when her vision clears, she’s standing among newly disturbed dirt and wild cactuses. She watches a breeze gently lift some sand but feels no refreshing gust of air against her skin, nor the scorching heat of the sun. When she glances down, her sleeves are tattered and red and her fingers are that of bone and rotted flesh.

It’s been a while since she was a  _ lich  _ lich. Inside of the umbrella, all she could do was rest, watch Taako, and think. Thinking was, for the most part, all she did. It was all she became. 

Inside of the umbrella, she wasn’t a lich. Liches have freedom and magic and powers. Liches can fight and can speak and can live as well as an undead person can live. Liches can visit their brothers. Liches can help the people they love. Liches can tell their family that they haven’t disappeared. Inside of the umbrella, she had her faculties, her free will, and her powers stripped away from her all at once. Inside of the umbrella, she wasn’t a lich because she couldn’t  _ be  _ a lich. Inside of the umbrella, she just  _ was. _

It fucking sucked.

And now she’s here, in the middle of nowhere, with Lucretia in space, with Barry missing, with the relics being collected, with the Hunger making its slow descent, with family whose memories have been wiped, with Taako— 

_ Taako. _

Where the fuck did Taako go?

She can’t lose Taako again. She just got him back. She has to protect him. She has to tell him everything she can and then some. She has to find a way to make him remember. 

Lup turns towards the direction of the race, and then she hears something like the sound of fabric tearing from behind her, except louder. Bigger. A sound accompanied by a soft, constant humming noise. She swivels around to find a rip in the landscape and a man stepping out of it— a portal. Once he’s through, the scenery repairs itself and the man straightens his tie as if nothing had happened.

“Oh,” says the man, whose voice is  _ obnoxiously  _ Cockney. “You’re not who I’m looking for.”

For a moment, Lup is relieved.

And then the man’s skin melts off his body, a feathered robe unfurls around him, and a scythe manifests in his hands. “Still a bonus, though. Three well-paying bounties and a lich. This is my lucky day, huh?”

Lup’s voice is heavy with disuse, gravelly and grating, and painful to muster. Still, she uses it to say the first words she’s spoken since her death: “Oh,  _ fuck  _ no.”

Lup isn’t exactly sure what’s happening, but she does know that “man-skeleton hybrid advancing upon her with a scythe” isn’t  _ great  _ news. She staggers for a moment and runs in the direction of the battlewagon race, casting Scorching Ray behind her as she goes. The result is equal parts disastrous as it is spectacular— on the one hand, she forgot how powerful she is, especially with the added rush of adrenaline, which makes for a pretty big blow. On the other, her spellcasting is clumsy, aimless, and riddled with beginner’s mistakes, which is how 90% of her Scorching Ray goes sailing  _ next  _ to Ghost Rider instead of  _ into  _ him. All it does is make him angrier.

Lup doesn’t care. It buys her time. She would take on a million scythe-wielding assholes if it meant coming back to Taako.

She runs— floats?-- as fast as she can along the battlewagon tracks, but her pace doesn’t nearly add up to that of the cars going over 100 miles per hour. She’s going to need to think of something to take her to the race that will also get her away from the bastard trying to re-kill her. 

She doesn’t think fast enough. Ghost Rider swoops in front of her, skidding through the sand, sending dirt clouds all around him, and ultimately blocking her path. Lup halts in her tracks.

“End of the road, death criminal,” he says, a shit-eating grin on his face. He raises his scythe and swings. 

But Lup isn’t  _ dumb _ . She ducks with ease, slides below him, and hits him with a Fire Bolt to the knee on her way. 

“Damn, okay,” she says, standing above his kneeling form. “So is this whole fight gonna be like that? Because I’m kinda busy right now, so…” 

Ghost Rider sneers, rises, and raises his scythe once again, taking some more decisive swings in her direction. Lup effortlessly sidesteps out of his way, then, just to add insult to injury, points another Fire Bolt at his face. He clutches his head and swats out the flame that catches onto his hood. Lup utilizes the extra time to Teleport further down the track and away from him.

“Hey!” yells Ghost Rider in the distance.  _ “Hey!  _ By order of the Raven Queen, I— God fucking damn it.”

She turns to wink at him and then realizes that she doesn’t have eyelids. Or eyeballs. Or skin at all, really. Lup turns back and keeps running.

And then she feels something hit her in the back. Something radiant.

She feels pain— intense pain, a burning sensation that travels up her spine and concentrates itself in the area she’s been hit— and is almost grateful for being able to feel something after (months? Years? Decades?) of numbness, but mostly she’s angry because that  _ hurt. _

_ “Ouch,”  _ she says, with feeling, because this guy is the worst and she needs him to know that.

She catches the glint of a scythe out of the corner of her eye and realizes Ghost Rider has caught up to her. She carefully glides out of the way, steps behind him before he has time to bring down his weapon, and punches him in the back. Hard. 

He yelps in either pain or surprise or both, then swivels around to face Lup and, instead of swinging again, just makes a choking gesture with his hands. “Just— make this easy. Step into the afterlife portal and talk to my boss, please. I get paid by the bounty, not the hour. Do you know how hard it is to catch bounties when they’re traveling over 100 miles per hour? Let me have this.”

“Again.” She aims a Fireball at him. “I’m busy.”

The power of the Fireball sends him flying backwards. Out of the corner of her eye, Lup catches a hill that ends in a cliff. A vantage point for the race. Somewhere she could jump down from, catch up to Taako, and easily escape from Ghost Rider.

She runs for it. Nothing is separating her from Taako ever, ever again. 

_ “Hey!”  _ she hears him shout. A flare of magic goes sailing past her. Lup turns around as Ghost Rider scrambles up from the sand and shoots another Fireball at him, sending him back down. 

She’s almost there. She’s almost to Taako and Magnus and Merle. She doesn’t know exactly how she’s going to explain to them that yes, she is a lich, and yes, there’s a Grim Reaper guy chasing her, and yes, they don’t know her, but she knows them and she loves them and she only wants to protect them. Also, she needs a ride to the moon base.

It’ll probably go over fine. 

She’s halfway up the hill when she feels the slight burn of radiant energy grazing her wrist. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to make her stumble. When she looks over her shoulder, she sees a scythe inches away from her face.

Lup gingerly puts a finger on its blade and lowers it. “Tone it down there, Ghost Rider. You’re gonna take somebody’s head off with that thing.”

“Ghost— what?”

“I gotta head out. You know, ‘death crimes’ to commit, necromantic rituals to do, people to corrupt. You know the drill. See you.”

She casts a Fire Bolt a couple inches from his face, expecting it to land, but he dodges easily. She takes a few steps back in an attempt to avoid him. He takes a few steps forward, swinging his scythe all the way. She tries a few more Fire Bolts— he weaves out of the way.

Fuck this. Lup casts Meteor Swarm. 

Hellfire comes raining down upon the vacant desert surrounding them. Flame manifests from the sky and comes hurtling towards the ground, bursting upon contact with the surface below, sending sand and rock in every direction and leaving an indent in the dirt as a mark of its destruction. One such sphere of fire comes flying right towards Ghost Rider, and, because she’s two feet away from him, right towards her. 

She didn’t think this through. 

A fireball twenty times her size crashes in front of her, sending her soaring through the air until she lands, less than gracefully, onto the ground below her, skidding through the sand for several feet. She’s hurt, she thinks, but she doesn’t  _ feel  _ it. Not really. She doesn’t feel the burn of the desert floor digging into her skin, doesn’t feel the heat of the explosion, doesn’t feel the fire singeing her hair, searing her flesh, doesn’t need to pat out the resulting embers sticking to her clothes, leaving marks. It’s a dull sensation, not like that of radiant magic, which offers just enough extra damage to be painful. She’s hurt, in the numb way that liches get hurt. 

Lup finally comes to a halt a great distance from where she stood before. When she turns her head— slowly, stiffly, although not sore— she notices that the edge of the cliff is only inches away. 

With a gasp, she turns over, clumsily flipping onto her stomach and extending a skeletal hand forward, desperately reaching for the precipice. She’s almost there. She can make it. She’s going to see Taako and he’s going to remember. She’ll help him remember. She’ll help everyone remember.

And then she feels a firm grip on her ankle. 

She shifts her focus from the freedom in front of her to see the asshole wannabe captor behind her. He’s hurt too. He doesn’t look it— no one can look hurt when they’re already dead— but she can tell. He’s nearly as weak as her, except  _ he  _ didn’t burn a ninth level spell slot. He’s looking back at her with a shit-eating grin, one hand on her ankle and the other holding a scythe. 

She kicks him in the face.  _ Motherfucker _ .

His grip stays firm. She kicks him again, then again, then again, then shoots a Fire Bolt at him that’s more of a candle flame than a bolt. Still, it seems to do the trick. His grip loosens just enough for her to break free. She launches another sturdy kick to his face, causing him to retract his hand, allowing Lup to slip out of his grasp. She uses the strength she has left to grab ahold of the cliff’s edge and pull herself forward. And below her—

And below her she sees them.

For the first time in months, in years, in decades, in however long it’s been, she sees her family. Not through an umbrella, not through magic, not through the window of an inescapable prison, but through her  _ own  _ eyes in the  _ real  _ world. They’re on the back of a battlewagon, shooting off spells and hacking at anyone who comes too close, and they’re only blobs of color from where she lays but they’re  _ there  _ and they’re  _ real  _ and they’re  _ so close _ . She’s going to get everything back. She’s going to be free, not trapped beyond reach, not a ghost of the past, not forgettable. She’s going to be free, and they’re going to be free, and they’re all going to remember. She’ll have her brother and her boyfriend and her best friends, all by her side, all by each other’s sides, together again, willing to defeat the Hunger once and for all. No more umbrellas. No more forgetting. No more separating the inseparable. 

All she has to do is make it over the cliff.

She pulls herself farther over the edge. First her shoulders are over. Then her chest. Then her torso begins to dangle over the side, and she’s so close to falling, so close to distancing herself away from misery and regret and imprisonment and inching closer to her freedom and her family and to Taako, finally, finally,  _ finally _ , and then—

And then there’s a sharp pain in her spine. 

It isn’t dull or numb or a distant memory of a feeling. It’s crisp and clear and distinct and _ right there, _ focused and uncharacteristically excruciating. 

She doesn’t feel pain like that. She  _ shouldn’t  _ feel pain like that. 

She swivels her head around to see heavy desert sunlight glinting off of a scythe’s blade. A scythe which is, at the moment, lodged in her back. 

_ Huh _ .

Lup’s vision goes dark and then she feels nothing at all. 

-

When Lup awakens, she’s facedown on the tiled floor of a room that is both infinite and constricting.

Quickly, clumsily, she scrambles to her feet. The Raven Queen towers over her, shrouded by darkness and black feathers. The only part of her that is clearly visible is the stark white of her skull. She addresses her in a deep, booming voice that Lup doesn’t hear aloud, but which instead manifests in her mind.  _ LUP. _

“Raven Queen Last Name,” Lup responds. 

_ YOU ARE GUILTY OF PERFORMING AND PARTICIPATING IN MULTIPLE NECROMANTIC RITUALS, INCLUDING THAT OF BECOMING A LICH. _

She sucks in her breath. It occurs to her that she’s landed herself in ghost jail. “Yeah, got me there. Do I get an attorney?”

She pauses.  _ NO. _

“Do I get a trial at all?”

_ NO? _

“Okay, well, this whole process seems kind of one-sided, then.”

_ I AM THE GODDESS OF LIFE AND DEATH. MY JUDGEMENT IS ABSOLUTE. THAT’S SORT OF THE WHOLE POINT.  _

“Sounds unfair.”  
  
The Raven Queen sighs. _ LUP, YOU HAVE EVADED DEATH MORE TIMES THAN ANY OTHER SOUL WE CURRENTLY HAVE IN THE ASTRAL PLANE. YOU DIED SEVENTEEN TIMES, LUP, AND NOT ONCE HAVE YOU VISITED MY REALM. SEVENTEEN TIMES, AND THEN YOU MADE YOURSELF A LICH TO FURTHER ESCAPE MY WRATH.  _

Lup shrugs. “Sorry?”

_ SILENCE, _ the Raven Queen shouts, and the whole room— void?— seems to shake. Lup shuts her mouth.

_ FOR YOUR CRIMES, I SHOULD SENTENCE YOU TO AN AFTERLIFE ROTTING IN THE DEEPEST CELL OF THE ETERNAL STOCKADE,  _ she continues.  _ WHAT YOU HAVE DONE IS UNFORGIVABLE. _

A giant scythe manifests in the Raven Queen’s hands. A light from a source she can’t identify glints off of the surface. The blade seems to be twice the size of the Queen, and the Queen is infinitely tall. Lup holds her breath, squeezes her eyes shut, and wills her hands to light aflame.

_ AND YET I FORGIVE YOU. _

When she opens her eyes, she sees the tip of the blade inches away from her shoulder. The Raven Queen taps her with it on each side, then once on the head. Suddenly, a crimson feathered robe unfurls from somewhere Lup can’t see and a scythe forms in her hands. And she can feel it, too— it’s not a numb weight like it would have been a few minutes ago. She can feel cool metal against her skin, feel its temperature settle in her grip, feel the smoothness of the handle. As a feeling of pure, unadulterated joy rises to her chest, she realizes that she can  _ feel  _ again.

“Oh, fuck yes,” she says.

_ OH FUCK YES INDEED,  _ replies the Raven Queen. _ I WAS FULLY PREPARED TO LOCK YOU AWAY AND LET YOU WITHER, BUT ISTUS ADVISED ME AGAINST IT. SHE TOLD ME DOING SO WOULD INTERFERE WITH THE FATE OF EVERY BEING ON EVERY PLANE OF EXISTENCE. IT SEEMS TO ME THAT YOU ARE RATHER IMPORTANT. _

“Hell yeah I am. Hey, tell Istus I said thanks.”

_ I WILL MAKE NOTE OF IT. ISTUS AND I ARE PRETTY TIGHT. _

Lup plays with the hem of her new badass cloak for a second, and then asks, “Hey, quick question, what do I do now?”

_ YOU ARE A MEMBER OF MY RETINUE. YOU WILL CAPTURE THOSE WHO HAVE COMMITTED DEATH CRIMES AND BRING THEM BACK HERE. _

“Cool. Wait, gross, does that mean I’m a cop?”

_ MORE LIKE A GRIM REAPER. _

“You know what?” She twists her grip on her scythe and takes a swing. Lup could get used to this. “I’ll take it.”

-

Lup is told to go to Training Room 7.

She doesn’t know where Training Room 7 is. She didn’t know Hell had one training room, much less seven. She did, however, become even more convinced that she was, in fact, in Hell when she saw the number of buttons on the elevator. There were more YOU ARE HERE maps on each floor than there was in the motherfucking Fantasy Mall of America. She doesn’t know why this building has so many levels and she’s pretty sure that there’s probably some lich hiding out in one of the bathrooms on the 116th floor. It’s feasible, given that everyone is dead here and there is no real reason to have bathrooms, much less multiple bathrooms on the hundreds of floors.

If she knew this place existed when she was a lich, she would have done that. She probably would have never gotten caught, either. Goddamn it.

Eventually, after lots of maps and lots of button pressing, she finds her way to the training room. It’s relatively the size of a high school gym, but there are worn, beat up mannequins in the corners and pitching machines lined up against the wall. Lup doesn’t see anyone in here but herself, so she prepares to double check the room number (and maybe scream into a pillow if she has to find yet another room), but then the double doors swing open.

And in walks Ghost Rider, whose eyes are on a clipboard.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, all traces of Cockney gone from his voice. “The paperwork for a bounty I just caught took forever to process. I see you’re here for orientation, so if you’d like—” He glances up and freezes.

Lup grins. Oh, this is so good.

Ghost Rider’s clipboard dematerializes. “Hey, what the fuck?”

“Good morning to you, too,” she says. “Hey, bee-tee-dubs, do you guys have, like, Fantasy McDonalds in Hell? I spent, like, two hours trying to find this place and now I kinda have a hankering for nuggets.”

He points an accusatory finger at her. “You’re not supposed to be here. I killed you.”

“Uh, correction, re-killed.” She jabs a finger in the air to make her point. “I was a lich before. Do they not teach you this in Death School?”

“Why are you here?” he asks.  _ “How _ are you here?”

Lup shrugs. “Lady Goth let me go. Turns out, I’m, uh, sort of really important to the fate of the universe, so… You really fucked up on that one, huh?”

“I did  _ not  _ fuck up,  _ you  _ are a death criminal—”

“Hey, weren’t you Cockney before? I swear you were Cockney before.”

_ “It’s a work accent!” _ he half-shouts, seething.

Lup can’t help the snort she makes and she can’t help the laughter that follows. “I’m sorry,” she says between breaths, “it’s a _ what?” _

Mr. Ghost Rider runs a hand down his face. “It’s— Listen, I usually don’t have to worry about my bounties finding out that I faked an accent while hunting them down because most of the time they don’t, you know, get hired by my boss. And most of the time I don’t train the bounties I’ve caught. Because, you know, most of the time, the Raven Queen hires devoted worshippers or victims of crime or really good people to catch necromancers, not  _ liches.” _

“Yeah, okay. Yeah, no, the accent is— the accent is super cool and deffo a normal thing.” She bites the corners of her mouth to keep from smiling. It doesn’t work. She bursts into laughter again.

“Stop laughing, it’s an intimidation tactic!” 

“Is it though? Like, is it really?”

Ghost Rider crosses his arms. “I’ve been throwing people in the Stockade for a long time. It gets boring, okay?”

“So you decided you’d spice it up by turning into a British person?”

“Yes! I don’t know! Do you want to get trained or not?”

“I thought I was a death criminal.”

“You are,” he snaps. Then he pauses, and the silence is a little awkward, but he breaks it with a sigh. “But if the Raven Queen hired you, there’s not much I can do about it.”  
  
“Sounds like you’re not super up for this, Ghost Rider.”  
  
“For the love of God, please stop calling me that. It’s Kravitz,” Kravitz tells her. “And no, I’m not, but I still have to train you because that’s my job.”

“Okay, cool, cool. So you have to deal with me for, what, a few hours? Few days, tops? That’s so sad.”

Kravitz chuckles dryly. “I wish. Training period lasts a year.”

Upon hearing that, Lup almost dies for a third (one hundred and third?) time. She tries to argue, but she chokes on her words and can only manage a strained “What?”

“I’ve gotta supervise your hunts,” he says, looking equally displeased. “You know, make sure you’re catching liches instead of teaming up with them. That sort of thing.”

“Why a year, though? Why can’t you just show me how to do that scythe thing, let me go ham on those training dummies, and you let me go? Like, why does it gotta be that hard? I’ve got shit to do!”

_ “Shit to do? _ You’re  _ dead.” _

“And? So are you!”

“You were a lich just this morning. Your shit to do probably involves death crimes.”

“It does not!”

“So what does it involve?”

Lup’s hands ball into fists. _ Asshole.  _ “I’ve known you for less than a day and in that time you tried to kill me,” she says. “I’m not gonna share my whole life story with you.”

“Not tried to,” Kravitz points out. “I did kill you.”

Lup wishes she could die just one more time. 

“Is there any way to get out of this?” she asks. “Like, can I quit?”

He shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. He’s enjoying this, Lup thinks. He’s enjoying making a fool out of her. The tables have turned in a direction she did  _ not  _ want them to turn to and she is hating it. “You could,” he says, “but you’d have to join the Sea of Souls, and then you wouldn’t be able to do anything at all. I think this gig is much better.”

“You don’t wanna do this either,” she scoffs. “Just… let me do my thing and I’ll let you do yours. Deal?”

“Mm, tempting, but no. Unfortunately the Lady is kind of omniscient and would know if I let you loose. I, for one, like my job, and I don’t want to be demoted to the desk until she lets me back in the ring.”

“And I don’t care where you or I work so long as I can— can do the shit I need to do!”

“Aw. You have to deal with me for, what, a year tops?” A smile pulls at the corners of his lips. “That’s so sad.”

“Don’t go twisting my clever witticisms back on me,” she grumbles, leaning against a flimsy training dummy that threatens to topple over under her weight.  
  
This sucks. This sucks  _ supremely. _ What if she can’t find Taako in the next year? What if Barry were captured and shoved into the Stockade sometime in the next year? What if the end of the world happens in the next year? She can’t waste an entire year learning how to kill some old dead dudes. She’s been killing the literal apocalypse for a  _ century. _

She glances over at Kravitz, who is watching her expectantly, clipboard in hand. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to train her and she doesn’t want nor need to be trained. He just likes to torture her. Maybe the Raven Queen sent her to Hell and this is her punishment— being trained for a year by some smug bastard who killed her  _ one  _ time. 

Unless.

Unless Lup can use this to her advantage.

“So,” she says, “you’ve got a big book of dead dudes, huh?”

“Half dead, but sure.”

“And I get one too?”

Kravitz narrows his eyes. “Why do you want a big book of dead dudes?”

She throws her hands up. “Just trying to make conversation! Damn.”

“Yes, you get a big book of dead dudes. You have it right now. You can just… summon it.”

“How do I summon it?”

“You just do.”

“Not helpful, Ghost Rider.”

_ “Kravitz.” _

“Just show me how to summon stuff, Ghost Rider.”

Kravitz sighs, but extends his hand anyways. “So, you’re gonna need to put your arm out, and… I dunno, imagine a big book of dead dudes materializing in your hand.”

And Lup imagines. She imagines  _ real  _ hard. She squints at her palm and visualizes a book of dead folks, with the names of all kinds of liches— with Barry’s name. From there, she could figure out if he’s still an active bounty or trapped in the Stockade. 

That is, if she could just get it to fucking  _ work. _

“You look constipated,” comments Kravitz after a solid five minutes of her glaring at her hand.

She throws back her head and groans. “Nothing’s happening.”

“Well, yeah, I can see that,” he says. “That’s what the training’s for.”

“Is it gonna take a year to summon a book? I’ve done conjuration before. I don’t need a year to figure out how to kill things with a scythe.”

“Okay, first of all, it’s not just killing things with a scythe—”   
“Uh, having just been killed with a scythe, I beg to differ.”

“— and reaper magic is… different.”

Lup squints. “Different how?”

Kravitz eyes shift towards the ceiling, his brow furrowed, seemingly searching for an explanation. “It’s like— Well, with the book, it’s this constantly changing, unending, infinite list of names on an infinite number of pages. It’s not like summoning, you know, an actual, physical book because that’s something that’s set in stone. It has a definite number of pages with a definite number of words that have a definite place, but with the, um— the Big Book of Dead Dudes, I guess— it’s lots of names shifting positions and finding new meanings all at once. It’s difficult to conjure something that you can’t even fully imagine, you know?”

Lup has encountered plenty of things she couldn’t “fully imagine.” For example, the monster that devours entire planar systems in one fell swoop and which she has to stop before it eventually gets to Faerun, now that the relics are being collected. Or the Light, the possible beginning of all things and the one thing the Hunger craves the most, which has the power to create anything and which somehow emits an aura of desire. Or maybe the extraterrestrial jellyfish that possesses the ability to remove or provide memories as it pleases, whose powers are responsible for Lup not having much of a family at the moment and whose effect she has to reverse. A jellyfish whose effect she could reverse much easier if  _ somebody  _ hadn’t killed her.

“I’ll get the hang of it, no prob,” she says. “So how do I do the portal thing?”

Kravitz gives her a look that she can only interpret as a mix of exasperated and deeply annoyed. “I’m not going to show you how to make a portal.”

“Why not? You’re  _ supposed  _ to train me.”  
  
“You’re going to make a portal to the material plane and do whatever lich things you were doing this morning.”

“What lich things was I doing? Tell me the exact lich-related crime I was committing.”

He throws his hands in the air. “Evil things! Necromancy things! Death criminal things! I don’t know! You tell me!”  
  
“Just show me how to make a portal.  _ One  _ portal. You have to tell me how at some point.”

He crosses his arms. “I can’t. Or rather, you can’t.”  
  
_ “I  _ can’t make a portal?”

“You need a scythe to make a portal. I don’t see your scythe.”

“Then show me how to summon one. You know, so I can use its power for my evil lich deeds.”

Kravitz rolls his eyes. “Fine. But if you even think about swiping at me with it, you’re going straight to the desks to work solely on paperwork for the rest of your existence.” He uncrosses his arms and instead extends both palms in front of him. “Stick out your hands like this.”

Lup does so. She feels extremely stupid. 

“Now imagine it. Try to feel its weight in your hands. Summon it from—”

“You sound like a bad motivational speaker right now.”

“Are you going to criticize everything I say or are you going to learn how to get a scythe?”

“Can’t I do both?”

He gives her a look that says, _ The sooner we get this over with, the better. _ Fuck that. Lup is going to make every moment of this guy’s existence a living Hell. 

Still, she does want a cool scythe. Begrudgingly, she resumes the position she was in before, however ridiculous it may be. 

Kravitz heaves a sigh, then continues. “Okay, you said you’ve done a little conjuration before. It’s just like that— simple conjuration. You already have it, actually. The Raven Queen gave it to you whenever she, for whatever reason, had you, a former lich, join her selective employ.”

“This job is ‘selective’ and you’re here?”

“After today, I’m  _ this  _ close to resigning. Anyways, just remember what the scythe was like when you first held it and try to bring that feeling back.”

Lup shuts her eyes and tries to remember— the weight of the scythe in her hands, the gleam of light on the blade, the coolness of the steel against her palm. The pure magical energy emanating off of it. The fact that for the first time in a long, long time, she could touch something and  _ feel  _ it— could remember, for a brief moment, what being alive felt like. What being alive  _ is.  _ The numbness that had consumed her entire being had suddenly vanished, leaving her with a familiar newfound ability, old and long abandoned yet still there, still lingering, and somehow still recent. As if she had just misplaced one of her senses and found it in the back of a closet years later. 

And when she opens her eyes, the scythe is there. 

“Huh,” says Kravitz. “That usually takes a little longer.”

She can’t help but let a satisfied grin spread across her face. “But I’m not good enough to join Lady Goth’s ‘selective employ?’ Okay, cool, cool.”

She watches the mild temporary respect he regarded her with disappear. God, this is so much fun.

“Yeah, congratulations, you’ve completed the easiest step of training,” he deadpans. “Anyways—”  
  
“How long did it take  _ you  _ to summon a scythe, Skeletor? Like, 20 seconds? 15 seconds? Just wondering.”

“You’re making me develop a stress migraine. I didn’t even know I could get those anymore.”

“Hey, all in a day’s work.” She turns it over in her hands, admiring her new weapon/new escape plan. “So, the portal thing?”

There’s a look on Kravitz’s face that vanishes too quickly for Lup to tell what it is. “Sure,” he says. “So you’re going to need to visualize the exact place you want to create a portal to. With that in mind, you’re going to make a very swift downward slice with your scythe. The fabric of space will tear and then you’ll have a portal. Easy as that.”

“Cool,” she says. “Well, be seeing you, motherfucker.”

Before he can do anything else, Lup takes her scythe and visualizes a portal to Taako, Magnus, and Merle’s shared dorm in the Bureau. She raises it high, feeling the magic imbued in it course through her veins, lets it tap into the deep well of magic inside of her, and makes a quick slice downward. With her eyes still squeezed shut, she runs in the direction of the portal she’s just created, ready to complete her jailbreak, and—

And she hits a wall. Hard.

She trips over herself and falls with a thud onto the floor. Her hand flies up to her head to cradle her new pounding headache. “Who thought it was a good idea to give these new reaper bodies the ability to feel pain?” she groans. 

Kravitz pokes his head into her line of vision, peering over her. “Forgot to mention. Can’t do it on your first try. Takes years of practice.”

“Uh huh,” she says, righting herself. “Conveniently forgot to mention that part.”

“Creating portals to and from the Raven Queen’s domain requires mastery of the scythe. It’s enchanted with a modified version of Gate that is automatically cast whenever a soul is captured— a small, one way portal to the Raven Queen’s chambers to take the soul where it needs to go. It takes most reapers years to learn how to cast it themselves  _ and  _ change it to fit their needs, especially since the Raven Queen doesn’t allow the regular Gate spell.”

“Does it really take most reapers years or did it just take you years?”

“I— You’re not going to make fun of me after you just ran full-speed into a wall.”  
  
“Less embarrassing than taking years to cast a spell, bud.”

He drags a hand down his face. “Just go hit that mannequin or something. I’m just gonna…” He makes a vague hand gesture and heads off to stand in the corner.

Lup approaches the mannequins, which are all lined up in a row in front of the wall. They all look brand new, their wood untouched and unscathed despite facing the wrath of the reapers who came before her.

She’ll change that.

She takes her scythe and takes a hard swing at the mannequin in front of her. Its wood splinters, which Lup finds satisfying, but then the wood she just hit seems to weave itself back together, leaving the mannequin seemingly unharmed. She takes another swing, harder this time, just in case her eyes are playing tricks on her, but sure enough, any scarring on the surface of the mannequin heals itself. With a grunt, she rears back and aims for its neck, successfully decapitating it, but its head only rolls on the floor for a few seconds before disappearing and subsequently reappearing upon the mannequin’s neck, as if it had never been touched.

“Hey, what the fuck?” she says, willing her scythe away.

Kravitz glances up from the spot on the floor he was staring at. “Oh, right, they’re enchanted to regenerate. Uh, forgot to mention that. Anyways, you ready to go?”

“I— what? I just got here five minutes ago, man. It took me forever just to find this room.”  
  
“Well, you know where it is now and I’ve got another bounty to find. Did the people at the front desk tell you where your apartment is?”

“I get an apartment?”

Kravitz sighs. “Unbelievable. Who was manning the desk? Was it Jim? He always complains about being skipped over for Employee of the Year and then pulls this kind of shit.” He holds out a hand, closes a fist, and when he opens it, a summoned Stone of Farspeech appears. He dials something, then tosses it to her. “Here, this one is yours. I called reception. Just— follow me and I’ll show you how to get there. I have to pick up something from my place anyways.”

She holds the Stone to her ear to hear a prerecorded voice say, “Please hold!” followed by light music. 

“How long do I gotta hold for?” she asks Kravitz, who has taken off in the direction of the elevators. 

“Depends,” he says. “Sometimes it’s a few minutes, sometimes it’s a few days.” 

“Days?”  
  
“Time starts to mean less and go by much faster after about a century of certain immortality,” he says. “You looked like you’d been a lich for, what, 20, 30 years? You wouldn’t understand.”

Lup is very close to punching him in the face.

They enter the elevator. Kravitz pushes a button on one of the several panels in front of him. They begin to ascend just as elevator music begins to play, unpleasantly overlapping with the music her Stone is emitting. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence between her and Kravitz, even with the background noise. Because she’s made it her personal mission to irritate him as much as possible, she says, “So, how soon do I become Employee of the Year?”

At that, Kravitz straightens. “You’re not going to be Employee of the Year. I’ve been Employee of the Year twelve times in a row and twenty times before that. You’re a— a death criminal. And you’re new. You can’t even go on solo missions yet.”

“No, but it’s, like, inspiring and shit. I mean, I can see the headlines now: ‘Former lich who didn’t even know reapers were a thing is named Employee of the Year’—”

“How the fuck did you become a lich and not know reapers were a thing? That’s, like, at the front of all beginner’s necromancy books.”

In lieu of a solid explanation other than  _ Reapers didn’t exist on my homeworld, which is long gone due to an attack by a plane-devouring demon,  _ she shrugs. “Skipped that part, I guess.”

“You skipped—” He looks up at the ceiling, then down at the ground, then buries his face in one hand. “God, this is going to be a long training period.”

The elevator comes to a halt in front of a long hallway that seems to extend into an infinity. As she steps out, she hears the faint crackling of a voice over the speaker of her Stone and pulls it to her ear.

“Hello?” she asks.

“Hi, you’ve reached the domain of Her Radiance The Raven Queen, this is Jim, how may I help you?”  
  
Lup puts a hand over the receiver and mouths _ It’s Jim _ to Kravitz, whose face twists into disgust. 

She pulls her hand away, then says, “Hey, I just got here and I was wondering which apartment was mine.”

“Name?”  
  
“Lup. L-U-P.”  
  
“Last name?”  
  
“Who has a last name anymore, am I right, Jim?”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “Right,” he says finally. “Let me just pull you up here, Lup…”   
  
Kravitz slows his pace, peering at the numbers on the doors.

“Let’s see…”

He stops in front of one of the doors and summons some keys into his hand.

“Here we go. Apartment 3845. Anything else?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks,” she says. 

“Anytime,” he replies, and then the crackling of static ceases. 

Kravitz, in the process of fiddling with his keys, asks, “What’d he say?”

“3845,” Lup repeats. Kravitz’s eyes go wide with something akin to horror as his attention shifts from his keys to the space beside him.

She follows his gaze to the room directly next door to his apartment.

_ 3845 _ .

Lup grins as laughter begins to rise out of her throat. “Oh,  _ fuck  _ yes.”


	2. Bestow Curse

Taako arrives back at the moon base not unscathed, along with Magnus and Merle, who are both fairly scraped up. The Director interrogates them over the red ghost guy who tried to kill them, tells them their roommate was thrown in prison, and informs him that she’s hired a boy detective that he could have sworn was dead. The only thing keeping him in the room is the promise of payment. 

She gives them a file with Captain Bane’s information on it and sends them on an errand to deliver it to Johann, then goes to sit down at her desk. He half-expects her to open a drawer and start doling out gold coins, but she never does. 

“Where’s my cash?” asks Taako.

“You each have eighteen hundred gold,” she replies. “Eighteen hundred illegal gold.”

“That doesn’t count. I got that money from murder, theft, and illegal racing, and now I need the money I get  _ for doing  _ that murder, theft, and illegal racing.”

“I’m not paying you for crime, Taako. I’m looking the other way here, actually, so you get to keep your money.” 

“What, are there cops on the moon? Someone’s gonna snitch on me and the feds are gonna fly on over to the secret moon base on the fake moon to arrest me?”

The Director takes a deep breath and buries her head in her hands. After a moment, she slides open a drawer, rifles around, and pulls out a mini bottle of vodka, a packet of sticky notes, and a box of cherry cordials with a few chocolates missing. “Here you go. You can sort that out amongst yourselves.”

Magnus, who was standing by the door, shouts, “I call the sticky notes!” and rushes to the desk, snatching them up in one swift motion. He peels one off and slaps it onto Merle’s forehead, who yelps and kicks him in the shin. While they’re distracted, Taako takes both the chocolate and the alcohol and slides them into one of his cloak pockets. If The Director isn’t going to actually pay him, he’ll just steal some of Captain Bane’s papers out of the file and pawn them off to Garfield. He seems like he’d pay some big dividends for a dead man’s identifying documents. 

As he turns to leave, The Director asks with an odd tone of urgency, “Taako, where’s your umbrella?”

“Oh, right,” he says. “I broke it.”

She practically leaps out of her chair, placing both hands on her desk and leaning forward.  _ “You broke your umbrella?” _

“Um, if this is gonna affect my Candlenights bonus, then no.”

“How? Why? Where is it, Taako?”

“Hey, man, I just work here.”

The Director takes a minute to stare at the ceiling, then again buries her head in her hands and sinks back into her office chair. After a slightly too long moment of silence, she straightens herself and folds her hands in her lap. “It’s— not a problem. It’s just that it was an incredibly rare, powerful weapon.” 

He shrugs. “I mean, it was a soul-devouring dollar store umbrella that I found in a cave. I could pick up an umbrella from the Fantasy Costco and enchant it to eat dead dudes right now.” He furrows his brow and looks off to the side. “Maybe.”

The Director looks like she wants to say something, but stops herself. Instead, she gestures to the door, in front of which Magnus is still trying to cover Merle in sticky notes. “You three can go.”

Taako is more than happy to oblige. 

— 

Lup doesn’t necessarily need to sleep given that she’s dead, but appreciates the fact that her apartment has a bed nonetheless.

What she  _ doesn’t  _ appreciate is how she can’t sleep even if she wanted to. The thought of being in the same world as Taako, technically able to interact with him, even if he’s in another plane, keeps clashing with the thought of Barry out there _ somewhere, _ in the Stockade or wandering around Faerun or worse— lost. A fragment of his former self. Pure, unadulterated evil and chaos and magic instead of a scientist with more questions in his head than there are answers in the universe. 

She doesn’t like to think of that possibility for long, but it sticks in her mind and refuses to leave, pervasive and unrelenting despite her best efforts.

And Merle and Magnus are both in the same situation as Taako, while Davenport can’t seem to remember anything but his name. Lucretia— or The Director, she supposes— presides over them all, knowing everything, possessing the answer to every question either of them has. She’s the only one who both has unambiguous whereabouts and who knows about the past century, but now that Lup has been sent to Hell, she doesn’t have any way to contact her.

Which leaves her how she started— trapped in a far away place with no way to communicate with her family. A step forward and a step back. 

If she could just summon that book— if she could just know Barry is safe— that would be progress. 

She holds out her hands and attempts, for the umpteenth time, to summon the book. She visualizes its contents, its purpose, the names inside, tries to channel her magic to this  _ one  _ spell to summon this  _ one  _ object, to answer just  _ one  _ of her questions— and then there’s a draining sensation, and then there’s sparks between her hands, and then there’s nothing at all.

She throws her hands back down at her sides and returns her gaze to the ceiling. Lup isn’t one to give up, but sometimes has to indulge the need for a little wallowing and ceiling-watching.

She’s _ Lup. _ She’s a master evocationist. She’s one of the two most powerful liches in the planar system. She’s stood in front of nihilism itself, told it to fuck off, and transformed herself in to pure magic just to let it know she was serious.

So why is this so hard?   


Magic hasn’t been the same since the umbrella. Before, if she had been asked to summon a book, no matter its ever-shifting state  _ and  _ despite the fact that she’s an evocationist, not a conjurer, she would have been able to do it without a problem. Now, after so much time sitting and waiting and remaining the same static ghost while the world around her changes, her abilities have wavered. She either puts in too much or not enough. Her spell-shaping skills are non-existent. Her magic is always either drained or bursting at the seams. Even cantrips are riddled with beginner’s mistakes. Everything she does with her magic is clumsy at best and trying to get back to the place she was is proving to be unbearable. 

Learning to summon the scythe was a brief moment of lucidity— a jump back in time to how she was before. What happens when she stalls? What happens when she can’t learn other simple spells? What happens when she realizes that she can never be the magic user she used to be?

She drags a hand down her face and sits up.

Fuck this. She’s going to go annoy Kravitz.

Lup exits her room— which is still bland and plain with little furniture, but she’s planning to magic some life into it at some point— and heads for Kravitz’s apartment, which is, delightfully, only a few feet away. Instead of knocking, she goes for the doorknob, because her goal is irritation, not politeness. She swings it open, expecting to hear Kravitz shout at her, but it doesn’t look like anyone is there. 

“Kravitz?” she calls, taking a few steps inside. “Hey, come out! I’m breaking and entering!”

There’s no response. She goes a few steps deeper into the apartment in the hopes that he’ll peek out around the corner and try to kick her out. How else is she supposed to relieve stress if not from antagonizing her superiors? 

She lets the door swing shut behind her, leaving her standing in Kravitz’s living quarters when he’s nowhere to be seen. It occurs to her that she should leave, but then she remembers that he murdered her, so she stays put. Her intent is to irritate, and so she’ll irritate.

Her eyes lock on the fridge.

Oh, she is getting her revenge, whether he’s here or not.

Just like beds, fridges seem to be unnecessary for the dead, and yet she still appreciates them. She also appreciates that Kravitz seems to have kept his stocked. She finds half a liter of Cherry Coke and a near full bag of pizza rolls, both of which she gathers into her arms and takes to the couch. She sets her (or Kravitz’s, really) snacks onto the coffee table in front of her, then reaches for the remote. The crystal screen lights up and displays Kravitz’s Fantasy Netflix account. 

Lup has a moment of internal conflict in which she’s not sure whether or not to mess up his personal profile by watching the first five minutes of every show that comes up and adding them to his list  _ or  _ to create a whole other profile for herself on his account just to show that she can. She chooses the former. Her goal is to inconvenience him. She picks the show that he watched most recently and begins to fast forward through the episodes he has left just to make him lose his place.

A voice in the back of her mind tells her that she might be acting like too much of an asshole. That going into her new coworker’s apartment while he’s not there, raiding his fridge, and screwing up his Netflix is a little much.

She tells that voice to shut the fuck up. He re-killed her right after she got her freedom back and sent her to jail. Lup has made a decision that she’s going to be the ghost that haunts him over his past sins for eternity. He’s lucky that she’s not enchanting his cabinets to slam shut immediately after he opens them. 

Which isn’t a bad idea, either. She makes a mental note to do that right after she uses her scythe to saw one side of his table legs just slightly lower than the other so that everything slides off.

She hears the door open and stops what she’s doing to watch Kravitz go from neutral to angry to exasperated and back to angry in a matter of seconds. 

She reaches into the bag of pizza rolls, heats one up with a fire cantrip, and pops it into her mouth, following it down with a swig of Coke right from the bottle. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“No time for pleasantries? Okay.”

“I—” He inspects the floor around the doorway, then the door itself, before shutting it. “How did you— how did you even get in here? I locked the door.”

“You think I don’t know how to pick a lock?”

She’s not going to tell him he left the door open. It’s more fun this way. 

He runs a hand through his hair. “I was following a bounty, Lup. I was gone for maybe an hour. You can’t break into people’s homes while they’re at work.”

“I’ve done it before.”   
“What?”   
“In life, I mean. You know, before you killed me.”

“You were a  _ lich _ . I hunt  _ liches _ . My—  _ Our  _ job, actually, is to  _ kill liches.” _

“No, I think my job is to haunt you. Like, I think everything in our lives was leading up to the moment where, out of all the possibilities in the cosmos, you and I just happened to be in the same place at the same time, and then, after Her Holiness The Goth Queen deemed me too important to die, I just happened to get assigned to you as a trainee. I think the threads of fate wove themselves together solely so I could annoy the fuck out of you.”

“It’s not fate, it’s just unfortunate.”

“Hey, a pathetic lich hunter just somehow gets lucky and captures one of the most powerful liches in the planar system? Doesn’t sound like a coincidence to me.”

“‘Most powerful’ is a little— did you call me pathetic?”

She turns her attention back to scrolling through Kravitz’s shows. “You watch Friends?”

He snatches the remote away from her hands. “Only when I hate myself.”

“You’re nearly finished with the fifth season.”

“I did a lot of binge watching after finding out who my new neighbor was.”

She touches a hand to her heart. “Aw, I’m so flattered.” She begins to chug the remainder of the Coke bottle.

Kravitz brings his hand to his temple. “I am this close to starting up an episode right now.”

“God, no, don’t subject both of us to that.” She glances back at the titles on the screen. “Oh, hey, Full House got a sequel? Man, I have been missing out on  _ all  _ the bad television.” 

“Why are you on my Netflix? Why are you eating stuff from my fridge? Why are you here, Lup?”

“I thought I made it pretty clear.” She heats up and pops another pizza roll in her mouth. It’s still cold, but she chokes it down and keeps a neutral face so as not to ruin her cool demeanor. “You’re in Hell. I am your personal Hell.”

“Can you leave?”

“Eh. Don’t feel like it.”

He heaves a sigh of frustration tinged with exhaustion, bows his head, and stands, for a moment, in silence. “... Please?”

“Oh, hey, how polite!” She, again, eats another pizza roll as she stares at him blankly.

“That’s a no, then?”

“Yeah, no, sorry, homie, that’s a no.”

“What did I ever do to you?” As soon as Lup opens her mouth, Kravitz holds out a finger, and adds, “Don’t answer that. I heard it as soon as I said it. But, Lup, your re-murder was for a good cause.”   


_ “Good cause?” _

“If I had let you remain a lich you would have probably found some poor mortal to haunt. I’ve graciously sacrificed my eternal life for that of thousands of others to save them from having to know you.”

Lup was, in fact, planning on haunting Taako, Magnus, and Merle, but not to annoy them. She was going to do a nice, friendly haunting in which she would warn them of what’s to come, try to get them to remember, and only maybe make fun of their Netflix preferences. Kravitz doesn’t need to know that, though.

Instead, Lup tosses a Fire Bolt at him. He yelps and pats out the resulting flame that catches onto his feathered cloak. Nothing is singed, of course, because his physical appearance is a projection, but he still closely inspects the rest of his cape for any damage. 

“What the hell, Lup?” he says once he’s finished checking himself over.

“You’re the one that said you re-killed me and threw me in jail for a good cause.”

“You’re running the jail right now, not imprisoned in it. I’d be much happier if you were in the Stockade, though.”

She hurls another Fire Bolt at him.

He hurriedly reaches to extinguish it before it spreads and somehow causes damage to the imaginary cloak on his imaginary body. Afterwards, he groans, “Jesus fucking Christ, will you cut it out?”

She goes to prepare another Fire Bolt, but Kravitz swats her hand away before she can cast it. 

“Fine, fine,” she says, throwing up her hands. “No more Fire Bolts.”

“No more fire at  _ all,” _ he asserts.

“Fine, whatever,” she says. “I’ll adhere to the most boring household rule anyone’s ever placed upon a guest. It’s no big.” 

“First of all, you’re not a guest, you broke into my home—”

“‘Broke into’ or ‘let myself in and spiced up the place?’”

_ “Broke into. _ Also, I feel like ‘no fire’ is a pretty standard expectation.”

“Oh, you know me. Always shattering expectations.”

“It’s not meant to be a compliment.”

“Felt like one.”

He knits his brow together and pinches the skin in between, his eyes squeezed shut as if Lup will just disappear if he ignores her for long enough. “How do I get you out of here?”

“You can’t,” she responds. 

“What if…” Kravitz takes a moment to think. “Hey, you’re pretty annoying. What if I let you annoy somebody I can’t stand? Will that get rid of you? Can I do that?”   


“You can,” she says, leaping up from her seat and tossing aside the bag of pizza rolls, already on her way out the door.

-

Kravitz leads her to the break room, which is surprisingly average-sized for an office building of infinite proportions. 

The room is tiled with mustard yellow and forest green alternating in a checkerboard pattern. To the left of the room lies a rectangular area rug colored with a dull, dark gray, and on top of it rests a couple of circular white tables with laminate tops, surrounded by teal plastic chairs. To the right is the kitchen area, which contains a few countertops, some cabinets, a refrigerator, and a microwave with a sticky note on it that reads  _ KEEP CONTAINERS COVERED.  _ Above the coffee machine, someone has taped a poster to the wall that depicts a cat struggling to hold onto a branch with the text _ HANG IN THERE!  _ plastered across the top. It’s the exact amount of neutral ugliness one would expect from a break room.

“Earlier I put some leftover pasta salad in here,” he says, making his way to the fridge, a mild but clear anger evident in his stride. “Let’s see if it’s still there.”

“Why would you put lunches in the break room?” she asks. “You live here. You can just go to your own fridge in your own apartment. You don’t even  _ need  _ to eat.”

He huffs and grips the handle of the fridge. “Sometimes I’m stuck doing paperwork here and I just need an incentive to get it done!”

She’s about to respond with something snarky when Kravitz swings the door open and reveals a deep, endless portal planted firmly in the middle of the fridge. When he catches her staring, he says, “Oh, right. Forgot to mention. It’s easier to just store a bunch of food in a portal to an infinite and empty dimension rather than run out of fridge space every five seconds. Anyways, my pasta salad.”

He reaches his arm in and feels around for something, and then when that yields no results, he sticks his head inside to take a peek. When he removes himself a few seconds later, he says, “Nope! It’s gone! And you know who took it?  _ Jim.” _

He says Jim’s name with ten times the repugnance and resentment in which he says Lup’s, so she supposes Jim must be the most annoying person in the Astral Plane. He won’t hold onto that title for long with Lup here, though.

“Front desk Jim?” she asks.

_ “Front desk Jim,”  _ Kravitz repeats, nearly shaking with fury.

“How do you know Front Desk Jim took your pasta salad?” she asks. “Maybe it was me. You never know.”

“Because— was it you?”

“Oh, no, I was busy breaking into your home and eating your pizza rolls.”

“Right. Anyways, I know it was him because two weeks ago I put some orange chicken in here because I knew I had a mountain of paperwork to finish. And the whole time I was doing that, I was thinking,  _ ‘After you’re done with this, Kravitz, you can eat that orange chicken you’ve been saving and it’s gonna be so good.’  _ Except when I got there, it was gone, and  _ Jim  _ had taken it. You wanna know how I know?”

“Please go on, I’m so invested,” Lup deadpans.

“Because he was leaving the break room just as I got there and when I walked in, he gave me this deer-in-headlights look and strolled right on past without saying a word. And you know what the room smelled like?”

“I have no clue whatsoever.”

“Orange chicken. And I  _ know  _ he didn’t take it by mistake because I put it in a styrofoam container and wrote my name in giant letters. He took it because he’s an asshole. Ever since, I’ve been putting food in here with my name on it and every time I do, it goes missing.”

“You put food in here just to see if he’ll steal it?”

“Stop making it sound dumb.”

“No, not dumb,” she says. “Totally not dumb. Preparing food you don’t need and putting it in a useless communal fridge just so you can see if it gets stolen? Multiple times? That’s brilliant.”

“You think it’s dumb.”

“Oh, no, what gave it away?”

“Can you help me or not?”

“Mm, depends.” Lup plasters her practiced innocent smile on her face, clasps her hands behind her back, and rocks back and forth on her feet. “What’re you gonna give me?”   
“Oh. Uh—”

“Better be something rad as hell since you murdered me in cold blood.”

“Will you stop saying that?”   


“Will you un-murder me?”

“I can’t—” He sighs. “You’ve been wanting to leave the Astral Plane, right? What if I take you to observe a field mission tomorrow?”

She grins. “Sick.” She extends a hand for him to shake. Reluctantly, he reaches to take it, but Lup pulls out of the way before he can. Kravitz seems too exhausted to chastise her and instead turns his attention back towards the fridge vortex.

“So what are we going to do?” he asks.

Lup takes a moment to think, then replies, “Do you have any other meals prepped? I mean, I am a pretty bomb ass cook, so I could—”

Kravitz summons another styrofoam container with a steaming helping of chicken alfredo. 

She drops her hands to her sides. “Why? Why do you use this fridge? You can summon your food at will, you can take the five minute trip to your apartment, you don’t even need to eat— why don’t you just stop using this fridge?”

Kravitz, who summoned a Sharpie while she was talking, looks up from writing his name in letters so large that they take up the entire lid of the container. “It’s the principle of the matter!”

She reaches out and grabs him by the shoulders, staring unblinking into his eyes. “Kravitz? Hey, Kravitz? Kravitz, my murderer and newfound enemy? Can I tell you something? Everything you say and do is nonsense.” 

He smacks her hand away. “Just do what you’re going to do.”

Lup obliges, takes the container away from his hands, and pops open the lid. Feeling the magic course through her veins, she closes her eyes and concentrates, willing the power inside of her to come to the surface, shaping its form with her inclinations.

When she opens her eyes, there’s a fork in her hand.

“Sweet, I summoned something,” she says, stabbing it into the chicken alfredo and taking a bite.

“Lup.”

“I think I’d add a little oregano, but otherwise? Not bad.”

_ “Lup.” _

“Fine, fine, whatever,” she says. Lup casts Bestow Curse. “When he eats this, he’s going to punch everyone he sees for 24 hours. That is, if I did this right.” 

“Oh, everyone’s going to  _ hate  _ him. He’s going to have  _ so  _ many meetings with HR.”

“Uh huh. You better appreciate this. I compromised my morals by ruining a perfectly good meal just so you could have your revenge.” Lup tosses the container into the portal, which swallows it whole. 

“Anyways, I’ll need fifty gold for my services.”

“What?”

“I just did a third level necromancy spell, which is probably something that no other employee knows how to do, given your whole sanctimonious ‘I’m too good for death crimes’ thing. I’m gonna need to see some cash, bud.”

“You broke into my apartment.  _ And  _ I’m taking you to observe a field mission tomorrow.”

“Fine. Forty-five gold and I promise to stay in my own apartment tonight.”

He looks like he wants to protest, but resigns to digging around in his pocket and shoving some gold into her hands. “Here’s twenty. Plus I won’t report you to HR. Are we even?”

She shoots him a smile and pockets the money. “Even.”

“Great,” he says. “Now I’m going to go wait at my desk for this to unfold, and when I come back home, there won’t be anyone there, right?”

“Deffo. You’ll be just as lonely as you always were.”

“I’m not— I’m not  _ lonely _ . I have  _ tons  _ of friends.”

“Really? Name three.”

“I— there’s— it’s— well, there’s— um—” he sputters. “You know what? You’re a _ lich.  _ Name  _ your  _ friends.”

“Can’t, my man, that’s confidential.”

“So you don’t have any?”

“Nope, I do. About six, if you only count folks currently living in this planar system.”

“What?”   


“But, like I said, names are strictly confidential.” She strolls over to the double doors leading out of the break room. “I’ll see you on the flip side, Ghost Rider. Have fun with your vengeance.”

Kravitz seems to be halfway confused and halfway lacking the desire to ask. She gives him a wink and turns to leave.

-

Time creeps on only by the number of hours. The scenery outside shows no change— a pure white sky and a still, black sea, the depths of which seem unending. A static background, frustratingly stable, never altering even in the slightest. Lup has to get out of here. 

Her curse did work, though only somewhat— Jim did punch, though he only punched himself, and it only lasted for an hour instead of the 24 she intended. More proof of her magic being imperfect, but funny nonetheless. She wonders if she’ll get fired for it. She kind of hopes she does, although she doesn’t know what being fired in the Astral Plane entails. The scenario she’s wishing for is being kicked out of the Astral Plane and dumped off somewhere on the Material Plane, alive again, left to fend for herself. Lup is good at fending for herself. She’s  _ not  _ good at being restrained in one place, expected to do what she’s told.  _ Summon this scythe. Train until you can work by yourself. Stay here in this job until you’re finally, finally ready to die.  _

Fuck that. 

Really, she should be grateful. She  _ is  _ grateful, in a way. The Astral Plane is much, much better than the umbrella. Here, she can do magic as she pleases, even if it’s not particularly good, and she can roam free, even if she can’t leave when she wants, and she has the ability to find the people she needs to find, even if that ability has been significantly stunted. Besides, the Raven Queen could have tossed her into maximum security ghost jail, and then Lup would have been leagues more fucked than she is now.

But a golden cage is still a cage. 

Lup just needs to find a way to escape it.

She rubs her eyes, closes the curtain of her window overlooking the Sea of Souls, and flops onto her mattress. 

She doesn’t even know if Taako is safe. The last time she saw him, he was with Magnus and Merle, participating in a race in which he could have been killed, attempting to retrieve an item that could both corrupt and kill him, pursuing a woman who was willing to kill him (and who did nearly kill him, for a moment— when he was knocked unconscious, Lup felt it, felt the fear he hid and the overwhelming pain and then the numb, empty nothingness that followed, and she had been afraid he died, but she could still feel him with her. And when he was revived, she felt a whisper of that, too. Not only her relief, but his.)

He’s okay. He’s a phenomenal wizard and he knows when to quit. Besides, she’s pretty sure Taako would kick death’s ass if he was given the chance.

But if she could confirm that hope, if she could see him, be there with him— she’d give anything.

Barry died by the hands of a weapon she created. She watched the Phoenix Gauntlet’s wielder crush him into the ground after he tried, in vain, to protect civilians from his wrath. He didn’t know, then, that it was near impossible to avoid catastrophic destruction. He had his soul, but not his memories. She thinks that even if he did understand, even if he retained the information he once knew too well, he still would have tried to save those he could. That’s part of what she loves about him. 

He wasn’t gone. Lup knew that then and she knows that now. It still hurt. The fact that it was  _ her  _ weapon that did it made it hurt even more.

Magnus didn’t want to leave. Not with all of those people in danger. He wanted to go back, wanted to run into a collapsing building and try to save people whose fates were already sealed. Lup would have done the same, though Magnus isn’t a lich— he’s mortal, ephemeral, willing to waste lives he doesn’t have if it means saving another. Meanwhile, Merle tried to talk the Gauntlet’s wielder down. He tried to coerce him into removing it, tried to defy the very nature of the relics and the Light imbued in them, and he almost succeeded because of course he did. He’s Merle. He’s spoken to the embodiment of misery and nihilism and pessimism and it listened. If nothing else, Lup is glad they at least retained those traits.

And Taako— Taako, who has always been more concerned with self-preservation than the preservation of others, excluding Lup and, further, the rest of the family they both found later— in the midst of chaos, asked, “What about Barry?” To him, Barry had been a stranger. A random person with a funny name who happened to tag along on their quest. Bonds are strong, powerful things, difficult to break even when stretched impossibly thin. He knew, somehow, deep inside of him, that he should care about Barry. He had to. That, at least, gives Lup something to hold on to. 

She wonders— would Taako feel that way about her? Would he remember, even a little? They are and always have been inseparable, two halves of a whole, individuals, but a pair all the same. 

Taako is fine. She would know if he wasn’t, just like she would know if all of the air drained out of the atmosphere, or if the sun fell, or if the stars blinked out of the night sky until it was just a bottomless void. If something happened to him, she’d notice, because how could she not?

But Barry is gone somewhere. Unreachable. Liches are like that, even when they aren’t trying to be— they’re ghosts, whispers, otherworldly, and they aren’t easy to detect. She doesn’t know if Barry is still out there, roaming Faerun in his spectral form, searching, undoubtedly, just like she is. She doesn’t know if he’s out there at all. He could be in the Stockade, rotting eternally, utterly alone. Or, worse, he could not be Barry anymore. He could have lost himself in the pure magic he turned himself into, could be long gone, could be out of her or anyone else’s reach forever. The thought of it makes her throat grow dry.

If she could get her hands on that fucking book, she’d know something. Anything. She’s desperate for the tiniest scrap of information, but even that evades her. 

She can’t summon the book. She’s out of practice and out of energy and nearly out of time. The Hunger is descending and she doesn’t know when it will strike, nor does she know if she’ll be able to see Taako or Barry before then. She’ll probably be here, waiting for her brother to unknowingly bring about the apocalypse, and when he does, she’ll watch the sea flood and the walls catch fire and stand by while the Hunger chokes even the oldest of the immortal gods to death. She’ll die, too. So will everybody else. They’ll all be together, sure, but they’ll be alone, and Lup will be without her family, and her family will have never known it. And that will be it. The Hunger will move on, but with fewer obstacles in its way.

Her gaze drifts until it lands upon the door mirror that came with the apartment. It, like everything else, is frustratingly bland. When Lup is able to summon more things, she’s going to deck out the entire place in the most garish things she can come up with.

When Lup can summon more things.

When.

She catches her reflection in the mirror. She isn’t like this. This isn’t her. She’s  _ Lup. _ She spent the better portion of her life sleeping on the sidewalk and stealing from whoever wasn’t vigilant enough to notice and then she clawed her way, inch by inch by inch, stolen book by failed spell by page of notes, to a formal education and a job with the IPRE. Fate itself told her,  _ This is what you’ll be forever. _ It told her,  _ Give up now or die trying. _ It told her,  _ You were never meant for riches or happiness or success. You cannot change. You will not change. Do not try to change.  _ When that wasn’t enough, it threw everything it had at her, from illness to starvation to homelessness, from a century outrunning the apocalypse to the deaths of thousands at her hands, from a prison of her own creation to the erasure of her family’s memory. Each time, she spat in fate’s face and told it to fuck off. And each time, she overcame. 

She’s stuck in Hell for a little bit. She can’t summon a book. Her magic needs work. So what? She’s been through worse and she’ll go through worse again. She’s _ Lup. _ When has anything ever held her back?

She’s _ Lup.  _ That’s all she needs to know.

She sticks out her hands and focuses not on what she wants to happen, but what she needs to happen. She’s Lup, and she can bend reality at her will. She’s Lup, and she’s worked really fucking hard to get to where she is. She’s Lup, and she’s going to summon this fucking book. 

She taps into her magic, the magic she and her brother cultivated all on their own, the magic they created for themselves because they needed to survive, the magic that is proof of their stubbornness. She’s going to find her way to him and to Barry, too, and Magnus, and Merle, and Davenport, and Lucretia. And then she’ll find her way to the Hunger and finally, finally end it.

Something flickers in her hands, there and gone and there again like embers leaving a flame. It’s trying to decide if it’ll stay. 

Lup demands it to. 

It does.

The book solidifies into a physical object in her hands. It’s a thick tome, worn with age, its spine frayed and its pages yellowed. Its cover must have been a bright red once, but time has deepened it to maroon. Still pleasant to look at. Silver lettering, glittering and bright despite the dust that cakes the area surrounding it, reads _ A COMPREHENSIVE LIST OF WANTED DEATH CRIMINALS, ACTIVE BOUNTIES, AND OTHER OFFENDERS OF THE RAVEN QUEEN’S LAW. _

Lup would have chosen a shorter title, personally. Something like Book of Old Dead Guys. 

She opens it, Barry on her mind, and it flips to his name without her even having to turn a page. Right there, under  _ LICHES (ACTIVE), _ is Barry’s name, death count, and payoff upon the return of his soul to the Raven Queen. While other names on the page shift and change and vanish and reappear, Barry’s stays. 

Relief washes over her.

He’s okay.

Barry is okay.

-

Lucretia hasn’t left her desk.

The one thing they had left of Lup— the one thing that could be found after searching and searching and relentless searching— is gone. And Taako, who was one of the last two people who looked for her when the rest had given up hope, had been the one to break it. And he didn’t  _ care. _ Why should he? He didn’t remember. He didn’t know that he pulled that umbrella off of his twin sister’s corpse. He didn’t know the umbrella was hers to begin with. He didn’t know he  _ had  _ a sister. 

A corpse means Lup is dead, which means she’s in her lich form. And if she hasn’t returned in the decade that she’s been missing, that means that she’s lost herself. A simple line of reasoning, but Lucretia can’t seem to comprehend the concept: Lup is really, truly gone, with no one to mourn her except for Lucretia.

Does Barry even know, she wonders? Could he know at all? The voidfish should have stripped her of his memory. Does he just feel a piece of him missing? If he did know, would the same thing happen to him? 

It’s her fault. She knows that. If Lucretia hadn’t done what she did, maybe they would have found her before she became pure, unadulterated magic, before her mind shattered, before she was really, truly dead. Or maybe they wouldn’t have, and maybe she would have already transformed into the selfish, cruel enemy that lost liches become, but at least that would have been some kind of closure. 

(It wouldn’t have been. Barry and Taako would have worked tirelessly on a way to change her back until Lup killed one of them, and then they’d work harder still.)

She’s not sure what to do anymore. She’s not sure where Lup is. She doesn’t think she wants to be found. She doesn’t know what she’d do if she was found. 

Still, it doesn’t seem like Lup. To lose herself. Which is a ridiculous way to think— that she, somehow, was exempt from the dangers of lichdom, that she couldn’t have lost herself even after everyone had forgotten her, even after no one could find her despite the weeks turned months turned years of looking, even after she was left to rot alone in a cold, dark cave near Phandalin. All of it must have made her best memories seem infinitesimal in comparison. Any lich would have lost themselves ten times over. Except Lup isn’t  _ any lich, _ and Lup has never been one to surrender, even when facing an apocalypse or certain death or someone as stubborn as she is. Lucretia can’t see it— Lup as a monster, needlessly hurting people for her own gain, an embodiment of power, her compassion and wit and everything inherently  _ Lup  _ about her sucked dry and tossed away because this new version of her deemed it unnecessary. It’s everything Lup detested about the Hunger. It’s everything she would never be.

But Lup is dead and presumably has been for a while. If she hasn’t shown up yet, she isn’t coming back, which leads Lucretia to assume the worst.

It doesn’t matter. The point is that Lup’s only possession has been broken, Lup is most likely lost forever, she’s the only person in the planar system who remembers who Lup is or was, and it’s all Lucretia’s fault.

She wonders, sometimes, if she should just reset. If she should take the Starblaster, fly it out, and leave this world to die so the rest of her family can continue to live. But they’d be right back where they started— miserable, hopeless, and desperate for an end. That is, if the bond machine didn’t sputter and die before they were able to take off.

Besides, Lucretia can’t leave another planar system to weather an apocalypse they won’t survive. Not again.

When she uses her shield spell, when she keeps the Hunger at bay for an eternity, when all the bonds in all of the planes are cut off, they’ll be safe. It’s not a good choice, nor does it promise a good outcome, but of the two options she had, this was the best. It promised safety. It promised an end. 

Will they forgive her?

_ No, _ she thinks.  _ They won’t. Not really. _

But she doesn’t need forgiveness.

She needs them to be safe. She needs them to be happy.

That’s all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's up folks!!!!  
> this chapter took a lil longer than anticipated, but hopefully it's enjoyable!! next chapter: kravitz and lup go on a field mission  
> thanks for reading!  
> tumblr: nillial


	3. Field Mission

Kravitz locked his door this time.

It’s morning, she presumes, although time seems to be distinctly  _ off  _ here. There’s no sun to rise nor set, no changing sky, and Lup swears that the clock shifts between ticking too fast and ticking too slow. She tries to find it unsettling, but she’s grown used to hours blurring together with no real way to determine the time, given that it was the same way in the Umbrastaff. She prefers the Astral Plane, however. At least here she can vaguely estimate the time. At least here there’s a way to keep track. The umbrella was just curtains and darkness and deprivation. One moment, she knew how everyone looked because their appearance hadn’t changed in 100 years. The next (admittedly long, painfully stretched out) moment, Taako had hair long enough to braid, Magnus had collected new scars and a few lines on his face, Merle had grown out his beard, and Lucretia was an elderly woman.

And Lup remained the same.

She didn’t quite want to deal with that thought immediately after coming out of a rest, so she decided to head next door and disturb Kravitz’s peace. But now that she’s here, his door is locked.

Lup doesn’t waste time wiggling the knob more than once, nor does she try to pound on the door and yell to be let in. It’s been a while since she’s had the pleasure of picking a lock. She squeezes her hand, focuses, and when she opens it, a couple of bobby pins are in her palm. Summoning things seems to be easier since she figured out how to summon her book. She lowers herself to her knees, bends the bobby pins into a lockpick, and gets to work. She hears a definitive click and, satisfied with herself, reaches for the knob, but before she can, the door swings open.

Kravitz, who is wearing a bathrobe patterned with cartoon rubber ducks, glowers down at her. “Good morning, Lup.”

“Nice robe,” she says. 

Mild irritation flashes across his face. “It’s comfy,” he replies. “I wish you wouldn’t break into my home.”

“Changing the subject, huh?”

“Lup, there are bobby pins sticking out of my doorknob. My robe shouldn’t be the focal point here.”

“I think the bobby pins add a little spice. You should leave them there. Anyways, that duck print is  _ so  _ fashion forward.”

He sighs and opens the door a little wider. “Just come in,” he tells her, already walking further inside his apartment. 

Lup stands and obliges, heading straight for the fridge, which she rummages around in before finding a box of PopTarts shoved in the back. She takes a pack and makes her way towards the couch, rolls onto it, then unwraps the bag and tosses the wrapper on the floor.

Kravitz watches it flutter to the ground. “Really?”   


“You murdered me,” she reminds him.

He lets out an  _ ugh  _ and walks over to his coffee machine on the counter, presses some buttons, and waits. Speaking over the whirring noise it produces, he says, “I promised you a field mission.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“I want to make it very clear: You’re not permitted to do any kind of fighting, magic, or reaping. You’re only allowed to observe.”

“What? I didn’t know it’d be boring.”

“You wanted—” He glances at her, then freezes. “What flavor of PopTart is that?”

“No, stay on topic. You didn’t tell me I couldn’t  _ do  _ shit.”

“Is that blackberry? I thought those were discontinued. Where did you find that?”

“I’m not telling you my secrets.”

He opens the fridge door and rummages around inside, eventually producing the box she found. He takes a look at the back, then informs her, “Lup, these expired two years ago.”

“I thought they tasted a little stale.” She takes another bite. “Not horrible, though.”

He makes a face.

“Hey, man, if anything, I should be the one judging here. You’re the one who refrigerates PopTarts.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but then notices that his coffee is done. Taking a deep breath, he moves to retrieve it, then turns around to face her with a less-than-enthusiastic expression. “Like I was saying: observation mission.”

“Like I was saying,” Lup says, feeling around the couch cushions for a remote. “Boring.”

“You’re not just allowed to start fighting death criminals and earning bounties right away. You just got here. You’ve barely even been trained.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Kravitz takes a slow sip of his coffee. “That curse you put on Jim was part of the training.” 

“You’re lucky I don’t curse  _ you, _ Skeletor.” Her hand collides with crystal. With a firm grasp, she pulls it out from in between the couch cushion, revealing the TV remote. With the press of a button, the TV screen lights up and Lup begins to cycle through the channels.   


Kravitz looks over. “I thought we were leaving for a field mission.”

“We are,” says Lup, settling on a Fantasy Law and Order marathon. “But, you know, you have to get ready, obvi.”

“I am ready.”

She gives him a look. “The liches are going to be so intimidated by your rubber ducky bathrobe and your giant cup of coffee. What does that mug say? ‘World’s Best Reaper’—?”

He quickly moves his hand to cover it. “It was a Candlenights gift.”

“From who?”

He purses his lips, seemingly unsure of what to say next. Overcoming his hesitation, he tells her, “... The Raven Queen.”

Lup shoots up. “Like, God and also our boss? That Raven Queen?”

“Yes—”

“This is preferential treatment. She’s playing favorites. I also want a mug!”

“It’s not… preferential—”

“Really? Who else got a Candlenights gift from  _ God, _ Kravitz?”

“I— uh—” He snaps his fingers. A few sparks of magic come out from his fingertips and the illusion of his bathrobe is quickly replaced by a separate illusion of a long, feathered black cloak over a crisp, finely tailored suit. He downs the rest of his coffee in a few gulps, wipes his mouth on his sleeve, and says, “Alright, I’m ready. We’re going.”

“Answer the question!”

A scythe appears in his hands. He slices through the fabric of time and space in one swift motion. A portal manifests under the cut. “I’m leaving. Feel free to come with me.”

“Wait—”

But Kravitz steps through the portal, gone.

Fucking asshole.

Lup lifts herself from the couch and makes her way to the portal while it’s still open, but then spots the stray PopTarts box Kravitz left on the counter.

Tentatively, she picks it up and reads the expiration date.

If Kravitz said it expired two years ago—

And if she adds that time to the year she went missing—

Lup has been gone for ten years.

The sweet aftertaste in her mouth sours and makes her stomach turn with nausea. 

She chucks the box into the garbage can and steps through the portal.

-

“Took you long enough,” Kravitz comments as she walks out of his apartment and into a grassy hill in the middle of nowhere.

This is a field mission, Lup reminds herself. This is the material plane. This is what she wanted, for the most part. She can’t think about missing an entire decade, can’t think about the time she’s lost, can’t think about everyone growing and changing and becoming whole different people without her, so she doesn’t. She won’t. She’ll worry about it some other time. Right now, she’s here, she’s out of the Astral Plane, and she has a plan: she’s going to escape.

More of a goal, actually. She doesn’t have a plan beyond  _ leave while Kravitz isn’t looking, _ but she’ll figure it out. 

“Sorry, kind of hard to find the giant tear in the fabric of space sitting in your kitchen,” she says. “What are we doing here? Are the liches gonna come out and sing The Sound of Music for us?”

They are, in fact, standing on the slope of a hill so green that it almost hurts to look at. The air itself is pleasantly mild. The sun warms her face and the occasional crisp breeze cools her at just the right moments. The scenery surrounding them is composed of similar hills dotted with trees and meadows, of cliff faces adorned with rock and foliage, of mountains far in the distance obscured by a light fog. She could lie here and watch the clouds pass by for a while, but she has more pressing matters to attend to. Although it  _ is  _ tempting.

Kravitz shrugs. “Death criminal that likes nice weather, I guess. It’s actually almost winter right now, but we’re in a warmer region. Anyways, let me lay down some ground rules.”

Lup groans.

“This is an observation mission,” he says. “You observe.”

“Uh huh.” 

“Observe. Not do.”

“Uh huh.”

“You won’t be using any magic, nor fighting any fight, and you won’t leave. You just watch.”

“Uh huh.”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Was I supposed to be?”

“I—” He pinches his nose. “Lup, I just need you to agree to stay on the sidelines. That’s it.”

“What if the lich or death criminal or whatever starts attacking me, though?”

“Just stay hidden. It’s fine. And if they do find you, the good news is that you have a limited amount of damage you can sustain before you are automatically portalled back to the Raven Queen’s domain, and at the stage of training you’re in, it’s probably pretty low.”

“The good news is that I can die?”

“The good news is that you  _ can’t  _ die. Either I’ll kill them first or you can just let the death criminal damage you enough so that you can go back to the Astral Plane. Problem solved.”

“And what if you die and I’m stuck here?”

Kravitz parts his mouth to respond, then shifts his gaze to the side and purses his lips. 

“You don’t know, do you?”

“No, no, I just, um…” He taps his chin. “Yeah, I didn’t think this through.”

Lup drags a hand down her face. “Oh my fucking God.”

“No, it’s fine, I just won’t die.”

“Just say I can fight, my man.”

“No, because you can’t fight. It breaks some kind of rule or something.”

“Or something?”

“It’s been a while since I read the handbook, okay?” He pauses.  _ “Did _ I ever read the handbook?”

“You—” She sighs. “Hey, bud, I hate to break it to you, but I’m kind of  _ pretty  _ sure taking a new reaper on a field mission as thanks for poisoning a coworker breaks all kinds of rules already. What’s one more?”

Kravitz raises a finger. “No. No attacking the bounties. Just let me think of something.”

He places his chin in his hands, narrows his gaze, and stares steadily at the ground, quiet and unblinking. And he stays that way. For several moments.

“Krav,” Lup says, breaching the silence, “I need you to know that I am not sure whether this is annoying or fucking hilarious.”

“Okay, no, wait, I’ve got it,” he says, ignoring her. “Just die.”

“What?”

“If I kick the bucket and you don’t, just find some way to die. You’ll poof away and be transported to the Astral Plane. Easy peasy.”

“That’s what every trainee wants to hear. _ ‘Just die.’ _ Thanks, Kravitz. How do I file a complaint to HR, again?”

“Didn’t read the handbook, couldn’t tell you,” he replies, and, already beginning to walk away, adds, “I’m gonna go catch my bounty.”

Lup begrudgingly trails behind, already thinking of ways to also kick some ass on top of ways to escape. She really needs to plan ahead next time.

Soon, they crest the hill. Above them is a perfectly blue sky decorated with fluffy white clouds. Below them is the valley, all trees and greenery and wildlife, split through the middle by a clear, glittering brook. And in front of them are three people in hoods, kneeling in front of a tombstone, their hands planted in the dirt. 

Beside her, Kravitz crosses his arms and heaves an exaggerated sigh. Then, in a godawful French accent, he says, “Seriously? Can’t you guys have a picnic or something instead of trying to raise the dead? God. Waste of a pretty day.”

Lup rolls her eyes. This is going to be a long day.

They swivel around to face them. “Who are you?” one asks.

Kravitz summons a clipboard and reads aloud, “Sheri Townsend, Yvonne Robertson, Richard Vega— By order of the Raven Queen, you have been declared guilty of multiple counts of raising the dead. Specifically, raising one another from the dead. Your souls are forfeit to the Raven Queen and will be collected for further judgement.”

_ “What?”  _ asks another.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he grins as his flesh drips down his face like melting candle wax, revealing the skeleton underneath. His hair lights aflame, producing an ash that settles and morphs into the raven feathers that make up the high collar of his robe. He extends his palms and in them appears a scythe, the sharp blade of which reflects the morning sunlight. 

_ “Fuck,” _ exclaims another one, lifting their hands from the soil. 

“The spell, you idiot!” shouts the third. “Keep channeling!”

“Forget Rothfield! It’s no use bringing her back if we die trying!”

“You’re both morons,” says the one in the middle. “I’ll do the spell. You kill those two.”

Kravitz holds his hands in front of him. “Uh-uh, no, not her,” he says. “She won’t be fighting. She’s a trainee.”

The hooded figures share a look with each other. “What?” says one.

“I’m just gonna watch you guys kill each other,” Lup explains.

“Right,” says another hooded figure. “That’s normal.”

“You’re  _ literally  _ raising a person from the dead,” she says.

“Please, Lup, you were a lich two days ago,” Kravitz interjects. “You can’t act like this is weird when you went twenty steps beyond this.”

Lup throws her hands up. “Whose side are you on, Kravitz?”

“Wait,” says a figure, “she was a lich? Why are we getting killed and the lich gets to be a reaper?”

“I’m important to the fate of the universe.” She shrugs. “It’s a thing.”

Kravitz heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Enough,” he says, clutching his scythe. “Let’s go.”

He advances on the necromancers, swinging his scythe in their direction. They dodge out of the way and begin to blast off spells, most of which Kravitz manages to avoid. He shoots off spells of his own, landing nearly all of them, significantly damaging them in a matter of seconds. When they retaliate, he weaves out of the way and, while he’s in their blindspot, aims another spell at them. He’s almost  _ good  _ at it.  _ Almost. _

Lup notices that the one channeling the spell is still kneeling on the ground, head bowed, hands planted in the dirt. They’re entirely vulnerable, yet Kravitz is busy trying to defeat the other two necromancers. She  _ could  _ just summon her scythe, slice at the kneeling one, and have it be over with. Or she could take on the other necromancers herself and have a good time kicking some ass. 

“Hey, Ghost Rider,” she shouts, “can I—”

“Absolutely not, Lup,” he yells in response as he swerves out of the way of an oncoming spell. 

Lup tilts her head back and groans. This sucks supremely.

She finds a comfortable spot to stand and watch the battle from afar. Had she been permitted to join, it would have been over by now. 

Her gaze drifts and she absentmindedly stares at the rolling hills that stretch out beneath her.

_ Hmm. _

Lup slowly backs away, making sure Kravitz’s attention is elsewhere, and casts Invisibility on herself. She immediately breaks into a sprint and begins to make her way down the hill, not daring to look behind her, grinning as the noise of spells and shouts fades into the distance and she’s left with silence.

She’s escaping. She’s going to be free. Really, actually free— not rotting in an umbrella, not stuck in the confines of the Astral Plane, not taunted by the expanse of a world begging her to get everyone’s shit together. She’s leaving. She’s moving and she’s going to keep moving until she either finds or is found by the right people, and if the reapers choose to put a bounty on her head, then so be it. She’s fought off worse.

She has to find out where she is. She’ll follow the brook until she finds a town, maybe, or at least some type of adventurer’s inn, and from there she’ll figure out where to go next. She’ll track down the location of one of the remaining relics so Taako, Merle, and Magnus will have to come after her. She’ll follow Barry’s tracks, if he left any. She’ll find a way onto the moon base. She’ll make everyone remember, and then—

And then she trips, and then she falls, and then she tumbles down the hill.

With her concentration on her spell thoroughly broken, Lup rolls down the grassy hillside that, unfortunately for her, begins to turn rocky towards the base. Pebbles dig into her flesh, dirt cakes her arms, and grass stains her once-glossy feathered cloak. After what feels like an eternity, she comes to a halt by splashing into the stream, which is shockingly cold despite the pleasantly warm temperature. 

As soon as she sits up and lets the water begin to drain from her ears, she hears the tell-tale sound of fabric tearing. Kravitz steps onto the shore, arms crossed, stature stiff, thoroughly unamused.

“You tried to escape,” he says, his tone cold.

Taako was always a little better at lying than her. Only a little, though.

Lup knits her brow and glowers at him. “I didn’t try to escape, dickwad,” she snaps. “Your head was probably too far up your ass to see, but one of those motherfuckers hit me with a spell that knocked me backward and sent me rolling the whole way down the hill. I could have prevented the whole thing if  _ someone  _ hadn’t barred me from fighting.”

His shoulders relax and expression shifts into something akin to guilt. If there’s one rule of lying, it’s that confidence is key. People will believe anything so long as the person they’re speaking to is confident enough in what they’re saying.

“I— Uh…” He holds out a hand. “Here.”

Lup uses her fingers to comb a glob of mud out of her hair and smears it onto his extended palm. His face contorts into disgust as he swiftly retracts his hand, desperately trying to shake off sludge.

She shrugs. “That’s what you get for murdering me  _ and  _ leaving me to die.”

Kravitz, eyes narrowed, reaches over and wipes the excess dirt on her cloak. 

Lup gasps, pressing a hand to her chest. “After you indirectly tried to murder me again? Real nice, Skeletor.”

“I didn’t try to murder you.”   


“You didn’t exactly try to help me, either.”

Kravitz sighs. “Fine. I’m…” He makes a vague hand gesture, his gaze drifting to the side. “Sorry.” 

“For?” she prompts.

Kravitz returns his stare to her only to scowl.

“Fine." She lifts herself to her feet.

Upon stepping onto the shore of the stream, Kravitz flicks a finger in her direction and the filth caking her is lifted. Another flick of the finger, and the aching pain wracking her body subsides.

“Healing spell,” Kravitz tells her. “You’re good to go.”

“Great,” she deadpans.

He re-summons his scythe and, with one clean slice, opens up a rift. Before he steps through, he pauses to look at her. “You coming?”

“Only to be a nuisance,” she replies, following him through.

-

She leaves the comfortable warmth and beauty of the hills to find herself in a damp, dark cave. The sudden absence of the sun allows the cold to creep up her spine, making her shiver. Unlike the expanse of the summery landscape she was in moments ago, its walls of stone are so restrictive that they border on suffocating. It reminds her of the umbrella, in a sense.

She decides she hates it here.

“A cave,” Kravitz drawls. “So original.”

“Where are they?” she asks, her hands reaching to hug her arms, which, despite her cloak, have responded to the chill by breaking out in goosebumps. “This place sucks.”

“They’re here,” he replies. “Just give me a minute.”

He stands there, quiet and impossibly still, his brow knit, his eyes squinted and unblinking. Lup is tempted to wave a hand in front of his face to make sure he hasn’t shut down. 

Then, suddenly, he breaks out of his trance and points a finger down the passage. “They’re just down there.”

“What was that?” she asks.   


He taps a finger to his temple and grins. “Reaper senses. Cool, right?”

“We could have just followed the only path we’re being presented with until we found them.”

He purses his lips. Without responding, he takes off in the direction of the bounties. Lup follows.

At the end of the pathway, they come across a large, open chamber. Peering inside, she sees a dozen people in dark robes, their faces obscured by their hoods, all gathered around a chalk circle carefully drawn on the floor.

“What is it with these people and black robes?” she whispers.

Kravitz shrugs. “They like to stick to aesthetics.”

Without saying anything more, he confidently saunters into the chamber. Upon hearing the click of his shoes on the stone floor, the necromancers’ faces turn towards him. 

“Well,” says Kravitz in an obnoxious Italian accent, “a cult! What do you—”

Lup cups her hands around her mouth and shouts, “He’s not Italian.”

He swivels toward her and hisses,  _ “Lup!” _

“I could tell,” pipes up one of the cultists around the circle.

Kravitz drags a hand down his face. “Let’s just get this over with,” he says, allowing himself to morph into his reaper self, a scythe forming in his hands. “Lup, stay over there.”

“I  _ am  _ the raddest evocation user in the universe, you know,” she replies. “Have you seen my fire magic? It’s the sickest thing you’ll ever watch.” 

Kravitz holds a hand out, his palm raised to say ‘Stop.’ A dismissive gesture. “Just stay put.”

He summons his clipboard and says, “I’m not going to read off all of your names and individual crimes, but you’re mostly guilty of raising the dead, human sacrifice, and a lot of fucked up shit,  _ plus  _ you’ve all died before, so by order of the Raven Queen your souls are forfeit and will be collected for further judgement, blah, blah, blah, let’s go.”

And then he advances upon the cult, one hand gripping his scythe, the other crackling with radiant magic. Lup sighs, resigning herself to lean against the cave wall. No use trying to escape again. Kravitz would never buy a second excuse for a jailbreak and she’d inevitably get caught trying to find her way through the narrow corridors of the cave. 

_ This sucks, _ Lup decides.  _ This sucks supremely. _

She watches Kravitz slice his way through his opponents, gracefully swiveling around at just the right time in order to blast the advancing cultists with radiant magic. With a practiced swing of his scythe, he easily captures souls and sends them on their way. With another hit of magic, the necromancers are slammed backwards and into the cave wall. It’s a dance, in a way— with one move, he sends his enemies flying before they even have the chance to lay a hand on him. Magic, slice, repeat. A complicated series of movements for a simple series of actions that manifests as something akin to a performance. And Kravitz almost looks  _ bored  _ doing it.

It’s kind of cool. Lup could be doing much cooler stuff, though.

With rehearsed ease, Kravitz nearly clears the room within minutes. After he’s satisfied with the damage he’s wrought, he turns to her and remarks, “These people all suck at their jobs. I mean, look at this circle. Did they really think this would summon a man-eating demon? I mean, really.” He kicks the tracing of the circle on the ground. A cloud of chalk dust rises from under his foot. “Fuckin’ pathetic. Oh, well. I’ll clean up and then we’ll head out.”

He begins to lazily stroll across the cave floor, his scythe resting on his shoulders like a baseball bat. He gently bumps the blade on the heads of the remaining necromancers, all of whom are nearly or already dead and, in the blink of an eye, their souls are vortexed to the Raven Queen’s domain. Lup watches as the remaining life they’ve held onto seeps out of their bodies and they are really, truly nothing more than an object. An abandoned body. A vessel with no host. A corpse. 

Lup has seen dead people before. Lup has  _ been  _ a dead person. This, however, gives her the creeps.

“So you really are just a straight up murderer, huh?” Lup pipes up from her spot in the corner.

Kravitz groans and turns to face her. “I’m collecting them. These people have died before. Besides, they kill people before their time, which is a crime against the Raven Queen’s law. Will you quit calling me a murderer?”

“Stop murdering and maybe I will.”

He rolls his eyes and returns to sending the souls away for judgement. 

Until he reaches the far back wall.

When he lifts his scythe for another lazy swing, there’s a yelp from the cultist hunched in a ball that he was about to slice. Tentatively, he lowers his weapon. 

“Are you still alive?” he asks.

A face peers from behind tightly clutched knees. Shakily, they lower their hood, revealing someone surprisingly young and visibly frightened. Under their eyes are dark circles heavy with exhaustion. Their lips are chapped and dry. Lines are etched into their forehead, despite their youth. Their breathing is heavy and their eyes glisten with the threat of tears.

“Don’t murder them!” Lup shouts from across the cavern, her voice echoing off the walls.

“I’m not going to—” Kravitz yells back before pausing, closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath. He turns back towards them. “What are you doing here?”

Their breath hitches when Kravitz addresses them and they recede further into themself. It takes a long, quiet pause for them to choke out, quiet and hoarse, “I didn’t— I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean to summon a demon?”

Another pause. “I didn’t know.” They take a shaky breath inward. “I— They— they had me draw a circle on the ground. They didn’t tell me what it was for. They said— they told me everything would be fine once the ritual was finished, and I didn’t ask questions because I knew I didn’t want to know the answer, and I— I didn’t know.”

Lup and Kravitz share a look with one another. He wills away his scythe and lowers himself to his knees to meet the cultist’s gaze. “Why are you here?”

“I, um,” stammers the necromancer, trying to swallow the lump in their throat, “I just started studying necromancy a month ago. There was an attack on my town. My dad and I— we— we died. The Guild revived me, but they couldn’t save him. Then they offered to— to teach me. Said they could help me. That it was the least I could do for them after they saved my life. This was going to be my first practical lesson using necromancy in ritual, and I—” Another gulp. “I just wanted to find a way to talk to my father.”

There’s another long pause, and then they ask, “Are you going to kill me?”

Something in Kravitz’s expression shifts. There’s remorse, she thinks, and pity hidden under his exterior. Not well-hidden either, might she add. “Let’s gamble,” he replies in lieu of an answer.

The necromancer stares. “What?”

“Let’s gamble for your soul,” he says. “I win, you go to the Raven Queen for judgement. You win, your bounty is waived and you roam free. Sound good?”

Their gaze darts from his and they blink hard, their eyes scrunching up. Without looking back at him, they nod vigorously. 

“Fantastic,” he replies. “What game?”

There’s a long pause. “Blackjack.”

Kravitz flashes them a grin. “Perfect.”   


He snaps his fingers and a blackjack table materializes from seemingly nowhere, complete with a deck of cards and a pair of shadowy hands in front of them. The hands beckon for the two of them to sit down. 

“Oh my god,” she says.  _ “Please _ let me in on this.”

Kravitz casually plops down in his seat at the table, his opponent tentatively following. “No, Lup.”

“You have to. You’re legally obligated,” she pleads. “You can’t just let me, the raddest evocation user  _ and  _ the best gambler in the known universe, both not fight and not play blackjack.”

“Neither of those titles you’ve given yourself are true.” 

“How would you know if you won’t let me do the shit I want to do?”

Kravitz rolls his eyes and turns towards the kid. “Anyways, the game is single deck, the dealer, also known as the floating pair of hands, will give us two cards and show us one of its own, dealer hits on a 16 or lower and stands on a 17 or higher, no doubling, whoever gets closest to 21 without going over wins, blah, blah, blah.” He shoves five chips towards them. “These are what you’re betting with. Spend them wisely. Got all that?”

They carefully study the chips in their hands, as if they’ll be given more chances if they look long enough. Finally, they reply, “I understand.”

Kravitz smiles, straightens his posture, and clasps his hands together. “Let’s play.”

They both push one chip forward as the dealer provides them two cards. From where she’s standing, Lup is able to see what both Kravitz and the kid have. The dealer shows its face-up card— an eight. Meanwhile, Kravitz has been given a sum of 15 and the kid has been given a sum of 11. 

Kravitz shrugs. “Hit me,” he says.

The kid squeaks out, “Me too.”

The dealer gives them both a new card, giving Kravitz a sum of 18 and the kid a sum of 13. The hands raps its fingers on the table in front of it in anticipation of their next call.

God, Lup hasn’t played Blackjack in a while. She hasn’t played in over ten years, apparently. She wants to do this, at least, wants to do  _ something  _ she used to do— gambling, petty theft, shooting fireballs at something evil. She’s itching to do something that makes her feel like less of a ghost while she has the opportunity, but she’s being told she can’t every time she tries.

Whatever. She’ll just steal Kravitz’s wallet later as revenge.

Kravitz and the kid both stand. The dealer reveals their hand— a 17. Kravitz wins. In the torchlight illuminating the cavern, she sees sweat glisten on the kid’s forehead. 

As the kid is reduced to four chips, the dealer gives them new cards. The dealer’s card is a 10, whereas the kid’s total is a 19 and Kravitz has a 9. He hits, which brings him up to a 15— still not enough. When they stand, the dealer reveals their cards— a 16. The kid wins.

After Kravitz is forced to give up one of his chips, he sets his elbows on the table and complains, “I’m bored.”

The kid just looks scared.

He turns to look at them, flashes a grin that Lup can’t determine the intentions of, and pushes all his chips forward. “I wanna go all in. Whaddya say? You with me?”

A look conveying an internal conflict crosses their face before they steel themself, nod, and push in their chips.

Kravitz looks expectantly towards the dealer and gestures for it to continue. It does, dealing them their next hand, and—

And Kravitz has a blackjack.

The kid has a 7 and Kravitz has a blackjack.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

“Hit,” the kid says, their voice shaking.

“Hit me too,” Kravitz tells the dealer, betraying nothing that may signal he’s already won.

The dealer complies, handing both Kravitz and the kid a card. Nearly immediately, he scatters his hand on the table in front of him and says, “Bust! Oh, well. Worth a try. Dealer?”

The dealer reveals its hand: a 15. It hits and gets a 7, bringing its total up to a 22. A bust.

The kid lets out a soft, sharp gasp, and, with trembling hands, reveal their cards: a 9. They win. 

Kravitz smiles and claps them hard on the back, nearly knocking the kid over, who, at this point, would probably faint at a stiff breeze. “Congratulations, buddy, you get to keep your life. No more necromancy, okay?”

They nod, almost imperceptibly. 

“Great.” He snaps his fingers and the blackjack setup dematerializes. “See you later. Hopefully much later.”

The kid flinches as Kravitz turns away and swings his scythe downward, creating a portal. He gestures for Lup to follow him before stepping inside. She complies, but pauses before making her way through. Instead, she faces the kid, rests a hand on their shoulder, and says, “Your dad’s okay, bud.”

They look away from her, biting their bottom lip, their brow knit together with worry, before meeting her gaze and saying, “How do you know?”

Lup puts on her best warm smile. “Oh, Jesse,” she says. “I know everything about you.”

“My name isn’t Jesse.”

She flashes them a grin. “Worth a try.” With that, she steps into the portal.

-

The first thing she notices is Kravitz flipping through his clipboard.

Her surroundings consist of a dark midnight sky, clouded by grey and the threat of a storm on the horizon, white sand at her feet and a raging deep green ocean beside her. The tide laps at her feet, desperately trying to pull her in with it, but she stays planted firmly in the soft ground beneath her. The air is that of charged electricity and sea breeze— an unexpectedly pleasant combination, although maybe she’s only fond of it because of Barry. He, in his lich form, always smelled of ozone.

And here Kravitz is with a clipboard, acting as if nothing had happened.

She breaks the silence between them. “You threw the game.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies, not even turning to look at her.

“You had a 21, Kravitz, I saw.” She kicks sand in his direction, but its wetness only makes it clump and fall to the ground with a sad  _ plop. _ “You’re soft.”

That makes him swivel around on his heel, spraying mud and sea water behind him as he goes. “I— I’m not soft,” he scoffs, sputtering out his words. “I’m just— It— I made a bad play.”

“Bullshit, Kravitz. You won and you know it.” She crosses her arms. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

The sound of distant thunder strikes in the far off distance. Kravitz averts his gaze from hers and pulls his cloak tighter. “They didn’t deserve it.”

“Really?” she says. “I thought they were all dirty death criminals to you.”

He rolls his eyes. “We go after souls that need to be collected. People who have cheated death. A lot of people who use advanced necromancy like that harm others in the process, whether intentionally or not.”

“And what was I doing that was so harmful?”

“Liches are— they’re different, okay, Lup? They’re the most dangerous. They’re masters of necromancy, they imbue their soul with pure magic for personal gain, and they always, always become monsters eventually. They’re the kind who have almost certainly done evil and will again.” He shoots her a glare. “God knows what you’ve done.”

That insult, unlike his passive aggressive comments and pointed jests, stings a little. There’s something behind it that she can’t quite identify. Resentment, maybe, or disgust, or genuine detestation. 

Lup responds with a joke, although she can’t stop irritation from creeping into her tone. “Sure, done all kinds of horrible things in my quest for lichdom. Like reading books. Scary, huh?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Hey, for someone who hates ‘death criminals’ so much, you sure know a lot about necromancy—”

For a fraction of a second, she can see something visibly snap inside of him. His shoulders tense, his eyes widen, his breath hitches, his lip curls. She barely has time to react before he interrupts and shouts, furious, “I’m not a  _ fucking  _ necromancer!”

The entire beach seems to quiet. There’s no crashing of waves, no clapping of thunder, no caw of a seagull in the far distance. Just the two of them, staring, stunned.

“Jesus,” says Lup, for lack of a better response.

He seems to soften at that, visibly shrinking, folding in on himself. Like he’s realized he’s gone too far. “Sorry. I— Sorry.” 

There’s a long silence between them that only the storm carrying on on the horizon dares to break. And then he says, “They were gonna sacrifice them.”

“What?”

“The cultists back there. They needed someone who had never performed a ritual before to act as sacrifice to the demon they were summoning. The sacrifice had to be the one to draw the circle. That’s the reason they had them do it. Once the spell-chanting was complete, they were going to slit the kid’s throat and spill their blood on the circle. That was the last step of the ritual.” He pauses. “Advanced necromancy like that is never free. It always requires something in return.”

All she can say is, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Oh.”

There’s another silence, and then Lup, seeking to relieve the tension, says, “So, are you just allowed to gamble for people’s souls? That’s a thing we can do?”

He makes a face and shifts his feet. “Well…” 

“Oh my fucking god.” She takes a step towards him, shoving him in the shoulder. _ “‘No, Lup, you can’t use your sick fire powers, it’s illegal. No, you can’t fight back, it’s illegal. Hold on, I have to illegally gamble someone’s soul. No, you can’t demonstrate your rad blackjack skills in my illegal card game, it’s illegal.’” _

“I’ve been doing this for years!  _ Sometimes  _ there are people who I wouldn’t mind letting go and  _ sometimes  _ I want to spice things up!”

_ “‘I’m so concerned with breaking the rules. Wait a minute, let me just throw away this handbook I never read and break the rules.’” _

“Let’s move on. Next bounty.” He briskly begins walking in the opposite direction.

She follows. “I’m so reporting all of this to HR as soon as I figure out how.”

A few moments later, they arrive at a small cavern carved out in the side of rocky cliff wall, waves crashing against its floor. Before they enter, Kravitz summons his clipboard, skims its contents, and says, “What do you know? It’s another cult and another demon. What accent should I do?”

“None, please.”   


“I think I might be Scottish.”

“I wish I died the first time.”

“Scottish it is.”

His clipboard dematerializes and his scythe appears in its place. As his skin melts off his body and he takes his reaper form, he charges inside. Lup tentatively trails behind.

As soon as she crosses into the cavern, she hears an earth-shattering roar, feels the ground tremble beneath her feet, grasping blindly for something to hold onto and coming up only with cave wall. Emerging from a summoning circle surrounded by hooded necromancers is a demon, its mouth a vast, gaping void, its many sets of sharp yellow teeth illuminated by the moon. It snarls, thick strands of saliva clinging to its chin. Its claws rear up and swat away a line of cultists as it sets its beady, black eyes on Kravitz.

Lup gives him a hopeful look.

He hesitates, then smiles. “I’ve already broken a lot of rules. What’s one more?”

She lets a grin spread across her face as she wills her scythe to her grip. 

-

Lup collapses on her bed, exhausted. 

Kravitz tried to haggle with her on the payout of the bounty—  _ technically you weren’t supposed to fight, Lup, it’s not even a big payout anyway, Lup, you can’t go anywhere, where would you spend it, Lup— _ but she ended up getting half, not counting the gold she’s going to slip out of his wallet later as recompense for his constant dick-ishness. 

The stark whiteness of the unchanging sky outside is annoying her, so she flops onto her side, facing away. Her cloak tugs at her neck. She unclasps it and it dematerializes into nothingness. She’s not quite sure how to re-summon it, but that’s a problem for another time.

She’s been gone for ten years.

It’s a thought that’s been creeping up on her, nagging at her subconscious, begging her to acknowledge it when she doesn’t have time to acknowledge it. But now she has time and now she has to acknowledge it. Feel its impact like a train she’s seen coming for a long, long while but can’t move aside for.

She knew she’d been gone for longer than she’d like to have been. Magnus had a wedding band around his finger, Merle had turned cynical, Davenport’s entire personality flipped, Lucretia was unrecognizable, and Taako— Taako changing hurts the worst.

But she didn’t know how to quantify it then. She knew that she missed a lot, knew that a lot of time had passed, knew that things had changed drastically but didn’t know how much of their lives they’d lived without each other— and she knew if she had a timeframe, if she could fill in the missing variable, she’d have the solution. An estimate for the potential of change. A definite answer as to how much she’s missed.

She didn’t want an answer. Not really. But it had to present itself at some point and she had to learn it all the same.

Ten years. She’s been half-alive in that fucking umbrella for ten years. While they grew and shifted and lived, she remained the same.

It’s not as bad as it could be. Still, that doesn’t take away the sting. 

There’s too many things that could have happened to Taako in the ten years that have passed— things she missed. Things she’ll never get to see. Things she’ll never go through by his side. She wants to go back, wants desperately to tear her way out of here and claw her way back to him in a vain attempt to make up for lost time, but she can’t and she won’t. He has his own life without her. 

What about Barry? He’s a lich now—he has to be, after his death in Phandalin. Was that his first death in this world? What has he been doing in the time between? Where is he now? Wandering, one of two people in the material plane who know what’s really happening? Truly abandoned?

That’s the difference, she thinks. Taako only believes that he’s alone. Barry knows he’s alone.

Neither situation is preferable.

She twists herself back towards the window, which, of course, is still displaying the same static scenery of a vast unmoving black sea and bright white sky. 

She’s been gone for a while, but she’s out of the umbrella now. She can see them. She can re-enter their lives. She can change with them. She will.

She’s lost ten years. She can’t change that.

But she can use the time she has left to make up for it.

She takes a deep breath, sits up, and shoves the blinds closed.

She’ll find her way back to them.

She has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh boy!!!!!   
> would have had this chapter out sooner but i was busy with my ACT and thus had less time to write. generally i think you can expect a new chapter somewhere between every 2-3 weeks!!   
> anyways, i wasn't Super sure about this chapter and my krav characterization so far, but hopefully it turns out well!! i promise they'll stop being assholes to each other soon. kind of. maybe  
> also i am deeply sorry for my limited blackjack knowledge its the Only card game i kind of know how to play and the only reason why i know anything about it is because of the two hours i spent playing it on fallout: new vegas at the tops casino trying to earn those sweet sweet caps  
> next chapter: CRYSTAL KINGDOM!!!!!!!  
> tumblr: nillial


	4. Office Party

It’s Candlenights. 

Thus, Taako is attending a shitty office party in hopes of less shitty gifts. Besides the cash bonus he received, the presents have been subpar at best. He thinks he might just lie and tell Angus he read the little detective book he gave him and then, when asked his favorite part, start recounting the plot of  _ The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo _ just to fuck with him.

He’s just given Magnus a macaron (which may or may not be poisoned, as is his fear with all of his food— he’ll find out later) when he, with a mouthful of cookie, points over Taako’s shoulder and says, “Look, there’s a present left!” effectively spewing crumbs everywhere. 

He follows Magnus’s finger to see that there is, in fact, a single brightly wrapped box under the Candlenights shrub. Taako sets aside his platter of macarons and picks it up. He barely has time to read the tag— addressed to him, Magnus, and Merle with no indication of who it’s from— before Magnus rips it open.

Inside are three patches stacked perfectly atop one another, each adorning the same design and displaying varying levels of wear. The background is dark blue and lining the edge are a dozen multicolored circles. In the middle is a word he can’t seem to understand. It’s in another language, he thinks— it must be, although it’s not like any language Taako’s ever seen before. The letters blur at the edges, clip together, twist and turn and shift. Staring at it makes him nauseous and trying to interpret it gives him a pounding headache. His face begins to dissolve into pins and needles when Merle pulls out a little slip of paper sticking out of the side—  _ FOR YOUR EYES ONLY.  _

Taako’s stomach churns. 

He again checks the box they came in and sighs when he sees that it's empty.

“No receipt,” he groans.

The Director, presumably having heard Taako’s complaints, narrows her eyes and makes her way towards them. “What is that?” she asks. “What’d you guys get?”

Magnus snatches the box out of Taako’s hands and tries to stuff it into his bag. “Nothing!”

Merle tries to tell her that it’s a James Bond movie, while Magnus attempts to convince her that it’s porn. Taako, however, wants this interaction to be over with, so he tells her, “It specifically says ‘for our eyes only.’”

The Director furrows her brow. “Well, that’s very— 

“Suspicious, right?” he interrupts. “I realized after I said it. It’s really suspicious.” 

She’s about to respond when the pendant around her neck glows and begins to speak. Emanating from it is a nasally, muffled voice that says, “Lucretia!”

The Director’s eyes widen and her shoulders tense. She quickly moves away, hissing into her necklace. And then, a few moments later, she shouts, ”You did  _ what?” _

Taako steals a cookie off of the foldout table and pops it into his mouth. There goes his Candlenights.

-

Lup spends the following weeks in training. 

She improves on her summoning, if only slightly, and her spellwork is less horrible, plus she’s come up with some cool new moves to beat up the mannequins with. Meanwhile, Kravitz would stand by and either argue with her or get bored and make up an excuse to leave. She can’t blame him. It  _ is  _ boring.

Which is why she spends more time finding new ways to break into Kravitz’s apartment than she does training. 

So far, he’s added new locks (which she deftly picks), set magic traps (which she skillfully disarms), and yelled at her to _ please stop _ (which she effortlessly ignores). Kravitz sees it as a security measure, but it’s like a fun challenge for her. Besides, he keeps restocking his fridge with Cherry Coke. It’s like he’s asking her to come back. It’d be rude if she  _ didn’t  _ break in.

She shimmies the door chain free and steps inside just in time for Kravitz to walk into his living room, straightening the tie on his suit. 

“What’re you getting fancied up for?” she asks.

He yelps and jumps at the sound of her voice, then relaxes when he sees it’s only her. Then tenses when he realizes that it’s  _ her. _ “I lock the door for a reason, you know.”

She swings open the refrigerator door. “And I break in for a reason. Did you get any more mozzarella sticks?”

He furrows his brow. “Really?”

Lup only stares at him.

He sighs. “They’re in the freezer.”

“Fuck yeah.” She slides open the freezer door and tears open the box, grabbing a handful of mozzarella sticks. With a quick fire cantrip to heat them up, she shoves them into her mouth and, while still chewing, asks, “What’s the suit for?”

He pauses in the middle of fixing his collar to look at her and say, “I always wear a suit.”

“Yeah,” she says, “but not, like, a snazzy one.”

He shoots her a look of displeasure. “Thanks,” he deadpans. 

“Still haven’t told me what it’s for.”

He takes a deep breath inwards. “It’s Candlenights. There’s an office party.”

“What? Why did no one tell me?”   


“There was a poster in the break room.”

“I don’t go in the break room! The break room is useless!”

“Well,” he says, making his way to the door, “that sucks. I’ll see you after I fulfill a social obligation that I don’t want anything to do with.” 

She tosses the box of mozzarella sticks onto the counter and follows him. “Wait, I wanna come to the shitty office party!”

“No you don’t,” he says. “It’s just uncomfortable small talk and pretending you think bad jokes are funny.” He exits into the hallway.

She trails him out the doorway. “I’ll spice it up! I’ll steal someone’s wallet! I’ll spike the punch with yogurt!”

He hesitates for a moment. “Why yogurt?”

“Everyone expects someone to slip alcohol into the punch. That’s boring. No one is expecting yogurt.”

The corner of his lips curl upwards for a fraction of a second, but he quickly presses his lips together, effectively suppressing any hint of a smile. “You really don’t want to go.”

“But I do!”

They reach the elevators. Kravitz presses a button and the doors slide open. He steps inside and Lup follows, making him roll his eyes. “If I were you, I’d just stay home.”

“Why  _ don’t  _ you just stay home?” she asks.

His gaze shifts to instead stare at a corner of the ceiling while his mouth twists into an uncomfortable frown. “Because my coworkers, um…” He takes a deep breath and awkwardly reaches to scratch the back of his neck. “They believe I think I’m better than them.”

She grins. “Oh, I didn’t get that impression from you at  _ all,” _ she drawls, her tone drenched in sarcasm. “Was it the favoritism from God? Or the bragging about being Reaper of the Year?”

“I never  _ bragged. _ I just happen to keep getting those awards.”

“Because of the favoritism.”

“Because I’m good at my job.”

“Uh huh. And what’d Lady Goth give you for Candlenights this year?”

His head swivels to face her and, eyes wide, brows furrowed, he sputters, “I didn’t— she— gifts aren’t  _ favoritism— _ and even then—” 

She lifts a brow.

He’s quiet, lips pursed thin and eyebrows furrowed, before he looks away from her and says, “She knit me some socks.”

She has to pinch the corners of her mouth to keep from laughing. “Oh my God, a handmade gift?”

“Istus has been teaching her.”

She elbows him. “And what’d Istus get you, huh?”

He pauses, then sighs deeply. “She made me matching mittens.”

Despite her efforts to stop herself, she snorts and erupts into laughter. In between breaths, she tells him, “I was _ joking. _ Oh, that’s fucking adorable. Holy shit. The almighty ancient gods knit things for you in their spare time.”

He throws his hands in the air. “That’s— It’s normal! It’s a normal thing!”

“Totally. No, I deffo got my hand-knit matching set of socks and mittens from God in the mail this morning.”

“It’s— It’s not—” He makes a choking gesture in the direction of the elevator doors. “Why does this thing take so long?”

Before Lup has time to respond with some (undoubtedly clever) quip, a ball of light manifests in the space between Kravitz’s hands. Lup, uncertain whether or not he’s casting a spell or having a spell cast upon him, staggers back, but Kravitz only seems mildly surprised, if not entirely unaffected. Instead, he reaches toward it and a thick leather-bound tome appears in its place, dropping itself into his outstretched palm. 

“What the fuck?” she asks.

He glances back at her, averting his attention from the book flipping its own pages. “I tagged some bounties that escaped me earlier. When a tagged bounty becomes active again, the book will summon itself.”

She holds a hand out to stop him. “Yeah, I don’t care. Why does your Book of Old Dead Dudes look different than mine?”

He rolls his eyes. “Everyone’s Book of Old Dead Dudes looks different. It’s ever-changing. Summoning it relies mostly on imagination.”

“My book is cooler.”

He gives her a look of exasperation and returns to the pages, which have settled. Upon seeing its contents, a grin spreads across his face. “Oh, hell yes.”

“What are you ‘hell yes-ing’ about?”

He turns to her, eyes wide, anticipation apparent in his expression. “Okay, Lup, I’m going to need you to go to that party after all.”

She blinks. “What?”

“Tell them I, uh, came down with the flu.”

“We’re dead.”

“Then tell them it’s— some rare flu that only dead people get, I don’t care. If I do it right this time, I’m about to get the biggest bounty payout I’ve ever received.”

“You’re what? Let me see!”

He straightens his posture and presses the book to his chest. “No.”

She crosses her arms. “Why not?”

“Because you’ll want to come with me and then beg me to pay you a share.”

She steps forward, jabbing an accusatory finger in his face. “I earned that field mission cash, Skeletor.”

“You weren’t supposed to get paid! You were supposed to watch! That was the point!”

“But I helped you kill that one demon thing! Besides, observing was boring as shit. I should have gotten bonus pay for that.”   


“You  _ asked  _ to go on a field mission!” He runs a hand through his hair, frazzled. “You— You can’t even teleport! You don’t  _ have  _ a place to spend gold at!”

“I’ll find a way!” She throws her hands in the air. “I’m getting distracted. Let me see the book.”

He turns away from her. “No.”

“Let me see it.”

He stays, feet planted firmly on the elevator floor, book tucked safely in his arms, his body facing away from her.  _ “No.” _

She takes a step toward him, placing her hands on her hips. “Kravitz.”

He says nothing. Only glares at her.

She sighs and shrugs nonchalantly. “You’ve given me no choice, my man.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, Lup launches at him. In an attempt to wrestle the book out of his grip, she grabs onto his shoulders from behind and hoists herself up as high as she can, making sure to kick him as much as possible in the process. He yelps, struggling to both maintain his balance and keep hold of the book. He runs sideways at the wall, then backwards, trying to shake her off, but she remains. She pulls at the book’s cover, feeling it slip out of his grasp, inch by inch. He responds by tugging it further toward him, but he’s no match for her. She’s had this same keepaway fight with Taako millions of times and won more than she can count. 

“What— the fuck— is wrong with you?” he half-shouts, stumbling over his feet.

“Let me see the book!”

_ “No!” _

She’s about to make another grab for it whenever she hears a polite cough from behind her. Both of them freeze.

Slowly, hesitantly, Kravitz turns around, Lup still half-hoisted onto his back, her hand frozen on the book. They’re met with a wide open elevator door and a small group of people who look to be somewhere between mildly concerned and incredibly confused. 

“Um,” he says. “Happy Candlenights.”

A few offer him a weak smile. Lup steps down and follows him out of the elevator. The others file inside, staring, an awkward silence permeating the entire hallway.

Once the doors slide shut again, Kravitz buries his face in the book and groans, “This is the worst thing to have ever happened to me in my entire career.”

“Oh, don’t feel bad.” She pats his shoulder. “I can always make things worse.”

He peeks out from behind the pages to glare at her.

With a sigh, he lowers his hands and summons a scythe into one of his palms. “Well, if I wasn’t going to go to that party before, I’m sure not going to now. Lup, you’re good at petty theft and being obnoxious. Please steal the shrimp cocktail tray for me.”

“Of course,” she replies. “I am going to eat at least half of it, though.”

A look of dubiety crosses his face. “You’re not going to ask to come with me?”

She shrugs. “To be honest, I’ve had my fill of bounty hunting for the time being. Besides, now that you mention it, I really do miss those frozen shrimp platters from Walmart.”

“Oh.” He still appears uncertain, but it doesn’t seem to deter him, as if he wants to leave before she changes her mind. “Well, see you.”

As soon as he turns around, Lup casts Mage Hand and takes the book from his grip.

He swivels around. “Hey!”

“Didn’t think you’d fall for that one. Pleasantly surprised.”

He takes a deep breath, puts on a calm face, and asks, “Can I have it back?”

She stares at him dead in the eye and smiles. “No.”

Before he can respond, she turns around, opens the book, and lets it flip to the page it was on before. 

And then she feels her heart crawl into her throat.

There, under  _ GENERAL DEATH CRIMINALS (ACTIVE), _ scrawled in glowing, bright blue ink, are three names:  _ MERLE HIGHCHURCH, MAGNUS BURNSIDES,  _ and  _ TAAKO [UNAVAILABLE].  _

She slams the book shut with a loud  _ snap. _

Lup, again, spins around to face him. “I’m coming with you,” she says.

He snatches the book from her grasp and wills it back into nonexistence. It dissipates into thin air. “No, you’re not.”

“You have to let me.’

“I don’t, actually.”

“Please, Kravitz, just this once. Just this once, and then I’ll never ask to go on a mission with you again. Ever.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe that.” He lifts his scythe and turns it over in his hands. “I’m the only one of the two of us that can make portals and I’m not taking you with me. Cut your losses and just go, Lup.”

She clenches her fists, shifting back and forth on her feet. _ “Fine.” _

She swivels on her heel and promptly stomps away, shoulders raised, her shoes clicking on the floor below her. She hears Kravitz, apparently satisfied, turn around as well. As soon as she hears the tell-tale tearing of fabric, she spins around and runs back towards him.

Nearly about to step through the portal, Kravitz looks behind him. “What—?”

Before he can stop her, she tackles him. They go sailing through the portal together. 

-

The two of them come tumbling out the other side and into a rocky cavern overtaken by blush pink crystals. She narrowly misses being cut by a low stalactite jutting out of the ceiling and, instead, crashes hard into a spike rising out of the floor. When she looks over, Kravitz is draped over a crystal boulder. 

He catches her eye and his face twists into something between anger and exhaustion. “What the fuck, Lup?”

She grabs onto the spike and pulls herself up. There’s a sharp twinge of pain in her back that tapers into a dull ache. She begins to regret her choices. “I improvised.”

“You tackled me.”

“You’d have closed the portal if I didn’t.”

“Because I told you not to come with me.”

“And I told  _ you  _ that I needed to go on this mission.”

“You know what—?” He tries to hoist himself up, but the boulder he landed on tips over, sending him toppling. There’s a dull thump as his body hits the ground, followed by a low, drawn-out groan. 

She shuffles through the rock to the spot where he lays sprawled against the floor. “You need help, Ghost Rider?”

He jabs a finger in her face. “No. Absolutely not. Fuck you.”

She holds up her hands and takes a step back as Kravitz attempts, in vain, to pull himself off the ground. He tries to lift himself on his elbows, but only slips. Again, he grabs onto various crystals around him to use as a crutch, but he can’t seem to get a firm grip on any that are a sufficient height from the floor. Finally, he gives up, lowers himself to the floor with a _ thunk,  _ and, after a moment's hesitation, offers Lup his hand.

She stares at him and crosses her arms.

He glowers up at her. “What?”   


“What’s the magic word?”

“You fought me for a book. And tackled me.”

“Alright, murderer.”

“I’m not a murderer!”

“You’re really bad at guessing the magic word.”

He takes a deep breath and holds it for a few moments, his eyes closed. “Please help me up.”

She takes his outstretched hand and pulls him to his feet. “That wasn’t so hard.”

He gives her a look as he dusts the front of his cloak off. As he absorbs their surroundings, Lup takes the opportunity to gaze at the scenery around them, too. There’s an abundance of light pink crystal coating the area they’re standing in, glittering under a light she can’t quite identify the source of. In fact, there’s nothing else besides the crystal— it consumes the entire cavern. When she peers towards the wall directly in front of her, she thinks she spots something that differs from the overwhelming pink gemstone— something gray. She moves towards it, careful not to trip over the rock below her. Upon further inspection, she realizes that the thing underneath the crystal is completely flat and smooth. She reaches out to touch it. It’s cool against her fingertips. She raps her knuckles against it. It appears to be solid and produces a hollow echo.

“Is that metal?” she asks.

Kravitz cautiously makes his way over to where she stands. “We’re in the Miller’s lab right now. There was a room under all of this, but I guess this was some experiment gone wrong.”

“Maybe they wanted to make a room filled with rocks. You don’t know.”

“Right.” He takes another brief moment to admire the crystal, then asks, “You know how to possess stuff, don’t you?”

She whips around. “Do I _ what?”  _

“Possess stuff. You know. Like…” He makes a vague hand gesture that’s halfway between a fistbump and jazz hands. “I taught you that. Right?”

“No. If you taught me how to possess stuff I would have abused that power to the fullest extent. All of your furniture would be floating, Kravitz. Your whole apartment would be like  _ The Exorcist.” _

“That’s probably why I didn’t teach you.” He steps back, takes out his scythe, and makes a downwards slice, tearing open a portal. “Alright. So we’re going to enter this portal possession-ready.”

“I’m always possession-ready, Skeletor.”

“Extremely weird thing to say. Anyways, to possess things, you need to abandon your physical form. It’s like losing concentration on a spell. You just need to…” He motions away from himself. “Let go.”

“Why do all of these lessons sound like you’re a shitty life coach?”

“Let go, Lup.”

“Letting go. I’m letting go.”

She takes a deep breath and squeezes her eyes shut, attempting to somehow concentrate on not concentrating. She doesn’t feel her body melt away, nor does she feel her physical form flicker out. She peeks one eye open to find that Kravitz is gone, and, in his place, is a tiny floating ball of light.

She staggers backwards. “Hey, what the fuck?”

Kravitz’s voice, from nowhere in particular, says, “This is what we actually look like. Come on, join the party.”

“I’m not sure I want to anymore.”

“Join the party, Lup. Come on.”

“There is no party. You’re one person.”

“A cool person.”

“That’s debatable.” 

“Do you wanna possess stuff or not?”

She crosses her arms. “Fine. But you  _ will  _ regret teaching me how to do this.” 

She, again, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath inward. She tries not to think, to relax, to let her circumstances and surroundings melt away— but worry still creeps into her mind, plagues her, takes hold and won’t let go. She can’t ignore the fact that Taako is  _ here. _ Her brother is  _ here. _ Her twin, who she hasn’t seen in years, who is everything to her and more, who she can’t be separated from come death or imprisonment or worse is _ here.  _

She wants to see him. She wants to speak to him, to hug him, to stay firmly by his side and never leave ever, ever again. 

And yet, for all of the unadulterated joy seeing him will bring, he’s not going to remember her. It’s a truth she acknowledges but has yet to come to terms with, despite all of the time she’s had to settle with it. In fact, it was nearly all she thought about in the umbrella: the dull look in his eyes upon seeing her, the lack of recognition, the way he’d view her as a stranger instead of his sister. Or maybe there’d be confusion— like maybe he’d seen her before, maybe he’d waved to her on the street, maybe he was confusing her for someone else, maybe, maybe, maybe. He’d act like the name was on the tip of his tongue, as if he hadn’t said it thousands of times and hadn’t heard it next to his a thousand more. And then he’d ask her for her name, and she’d tell him, and he’d repeat it, but it wouldn’t hold the same weight. A name in the mouth of a brother is different from a name in the mouth of a stranger. 

She can’t truly anticipate it because it’s going to hurt much worse than any imagined scenario. All she can do is prepare herself, however futile an endeavor. 

A voice interrupts her thoughts. “Are you letting go yet?”

She opens one eye. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder. It’s getting boring.”

“If you had a physical form right now, I’d kick you.” 

“Just another advantage of being a little ball of light.”

She sighs and closes her eyes. 

Lup is going to get through to him, no matter what it takes. They have a bond that can’t be severed, even by memory erasure or loss or death. She’ll override fate itself if she has to. He’s going to remember. If not now, then soon. Lup is clever. She’ll find a way out of this. They’ll find a way out of this. Together.

They always come back to each other, because how can they not? They’re a pair. They always have been and they always will be. The apocalypse couldn’t change that, repeated death couldn’t change that, and she’ll be damned if she lets a voidfish change that. 

Taako doesn’t remember, but she does. And if she knows anything about the two of them, it’s that they’re always able to make it through to the other side.

Lup lets go.

When she opens her eyes, she’s in a void of pure white.

She’s standing, but she doesn’t know what ground holds her. There’s nothing there except for her. She holds a hand in front of her and realizes she can’t judge how far the space she’s in stretches. It appears two dimensional to her, though she herself still has depth. 

In front of her is something akin to a window. Through it, she can see the outside world and its contrasts with this weird, inner dimension. She dares to take a step forward and the window moves backwards in response, but, it seems, moves her soul further in the material plane. The window moves with her, she thinks, and her movements here correspond with her movements in the outside world. 

“Fuckin’ weird,” she whispers to herself, just because she doesn’t know what else to do.

“I know, right?” 

She startles at the unexpected sound of a voice. When she whips around, she realizes it's only Kravitz.

“How did you get in here?” she asks. 

“What do you mean? I was here first.”

“But this is like— my headspace or something. Right?” She takes a moment to look around at her surroundings, or lack thereof. “Where are we?”

Kravitz approaches her and she notices that he, too, has his own window trailing him around. “If this is your headspace, you’re super dumb. There’s nothing here.”

“How am I supposed to know what the inside of a mind looks like?”

“Well, I mean— there’d be stuff. Like thoughts.”

“And what do thoughts look like, Krav?”

“Like something!”

“Maybe this is what  _ your  _ headspace looks like, bud.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”   


“Are you gonna tell me where we are?”

Kravitz hesitates for a moment. “Right.” He shifts his gaze, fixes his tie, and then admits, “I don’t know where, exactly.”

She takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly. “No, that’s cool. Having my consciousness transported to a place of ambiguous nature and whereabouts with only a glimpse into the outside world is fine, actually. I love this. Believe it or not, this has happened to me before.” 

“No, it’s like…” He furrows his brow and makes a lot of complicated hand gestures before slumping his shoulders and giving up. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s been a while since I’ve gone through reaper training and I was only half-listening when they explained shedding the physical form to me.”

“That seems pretty important, my guy.”   


“Have you been listening to anything I’ve been telling you?”

“Fair enough. Go on.”

“Right. So, I think we’re in some, like…” He gestures to the white emptiness surrounding them. “... extraplanar reality place.”

“Fantastic.” She points at the window in front of her. “So where are we headed?” 

“Oh. Um…” He shuffles towards the window in front of her, and, with a wave of his hand, it disappears, leaving only his view.

She casts him a look. “I need you to know that you suck. I  _ need  _ you to know that.” 

“It’s just easier this way,” he tells her. “I was going to lead you to where we were headed anyways. Besides, this way I can show you how to possess stuff without you, like, fully possessing anything.”

“Why am I not allowed to fully possess anything?”

“Because of the havoc you’re liable to wreak. Anyways...” He takes a step forward and the window moves with him. “Here we go.”

Kravitz makes his way towards the portal, and then, before she has time to wonder where it leads to, they’re falling towards a pond. There’s a soft sound like a stone skipping water and then they’re sitting at the bottom. 

He shoots her a grin. “Watch this,” he says.

He sprints towards a crystal that lies with them at the bottom of the pond and instead of colliding with it, they merge with it. Suddenly, their view is colored a rosy pink and blurred like stained glass. It makes seeing that much more difficult, but there doesn’t seem to be much to see anyway— just still water in the depths of a pond. 

Kravitz, his hands neatly clasped behind his back, tells her, “Now that I’m a single material, I can possess anything within a reasonable range that is also made of the same material and add it to my mass.”

He reaches out an arm and clenches his fist. In the material plane, dozens of chunks of crystal soar towards him to form a giant arm. He extends the other arm and the same happens, each gathering numerous crystals to take the shape of a pair of human arms.

“That’s metal as fuck,” Lup says.

“I know, right?” Kravitz replies. He stomps both feet and crystals climb over one another to give him legs. The added height allows him to rise out of the pond and onto the surface, towering over his surroundings. Through the clouded vision Kravitz’s creation provides, Lup is able to see only the faint outline of boulders and the lake below. Most importantly, however, she sees the rough shape of three figures, all standing next to one another— one short, one large, and one who appears to be wearing a pointy hat. Immediately, she knows that it’s them. 

Her stomach turns with anticipation and tension and eagerness, making her hands shake and her breath hitch. They’re right there. She’s so close to them. If she could only see their faces, if she could speak to them, tell them anything, get out of this crystalline monster— 

“Hail and well met!”

Lup freezes.

It’s Taako.

It’s Taako’s voice.

For the first time in ten years, she’s hearing Taako’s voice. It’s muffled, but it’s there. He’s there. Her brother is there.

She doesn’t know what to do. She knows what she wants to do— leap out of this hunk of rock, hug him, talk to him, tell him she’s sorry, that she missed him so much, that she needs him— but she can’t. For one, he doesn’t know her anymore. She’d just be a stranger to him and any attempt at meaningful conversation will be difficult, if not impossible. Secondly, Kravitz may have taught her how to possess something, but he hasn’t yet taught her how to  _ un- _ possess something, so she’s somewhat stuck for the time being.

The sound of Taako’s next comment pulls her from her thoughts. “My name is Taako, and you look like you’re made of salt.” 

She watches Kravitz cock his head, then lean closer, examining him through the blurry window he’s been provided, though it does nothing to clear up Taako’s features. His face remains scrambled and indistinct at best. 

He rests his hands on his hips, leaning away, though only slightly. “Little hard of hearing, huh? Well, that's okay, come on in. We're, uh, adventurers.”

Kravitz stops, squeezes his eyes shut, and focuses. Taako calls out to him, though he doesn’t seem to hear it. Finally, he rises, staggering away from him.

Over the jeering of Taako, he moves on to the largest figure, who Lup surmises is Magnus. He stands completely still as Kravitz looks him over. Lup, too, finds herself standing entirely motionless, her back straight and her shoulders tense. 

When that seems to yield no results, Kravitz backs up and turns to the shortest figure, who she can only assume is Merle. There, Kravitz remains stationary, his eyes closed, his brow knit in concentration. After what seems like an eternity, he smiles.

In a low voice that reverberates both throughout the space they reside in and outside the boundaries of a crystal, Kravitz says, _ “You.” _

And then there’s the sound of clinking against glass. He turns his head to find Magnus wielding an axe. 

Lup already knows what’s going to take place next. She’s not going to stand by and let it happen. 

Before he has time to react, she sprints in front of his line of sight and spreads her arms in an attempt to block the window into the material plane. 

Kravitz releases an exaggerated sigh. “Lup, what are you doing?”

“I—” She swallows the lump in her throat. “You can’t kill them.”

“For the last time, Lup, I don’t kill people. I  _ collect  _ the souls of those who are already dead. It’s my job. It’s your job, too, actually. Move out of the way so I can do  _ our  _ job.” 

He tries to sidestep out of her way. She moves with him. He tries, again, to evade her, but she shuffles to block his sight still. Kravitz takes a deep breath and drags a hand down his face. “Okay. Okay, fine. You know, I don’t know what your hangup is with these people, but I couldn’t see shit even without you— doing whatever it is you’re doing. So, you know, I’m just going to swing wildly. It’s bound to hit one of them. Feel free to step aside.”

She remains where she is, although she’s now significantly more concerned. 

He lifts an arm. It pauses in the air for a moment, the flat of his palm briefly suspended while Kravitz gives her a look that says, “C’mon, Lup.” He starts to bring his hand down in one slow, fluid motion.

She dives towards him and attempts to wrestle his hands to his sides. He staggers backwards, nearly tripping over himself, the result of which she can somewhat hear outside— the crunching of rocks, the splashing of water, the heavy footsteps that shake the entire room, all muffled by the crystal barrier that separates them from the rest of the world but audible all the same. She hears the faint noise of shouting and cheers from below while Kravitz attempts to wriggle away from her. 

“Jesus, Lup, what is it with you and fighting with me today?” he grumbles under his breath.

She ignores him and tries to press his hands to his sides, only for him to raise them again, which, to the outside observer, Lup can only assume looks like a giant crystal monster trying to flap its nonexistent wings. “How do I speak through this rock thing?”

“Rock thing?”

“Like, how do I talk to them?”   


“As if I’d tell you!”

Finally, he tears his hands away from her grip and pushes past her. He peers out of his window, searching desperately, before dragging a hand down his face and turning to her. “They’re gone. They got away.”

Lup celebrates internally.

Without turning to look at her, he snaps his fingers and then the world goes dark. 

For a second, she’s nowhere. There’s no noise, no air, nothing to see nor feel— just an unending void. She doesn’t try to find an escape, doesn’t try to flail wildly, doesn’t panic mostly because she doesn’t have time to. She blinks— or, at least, she thinks she blinks— and when she opens her eyes, she’s sprawled out on the craggy crystals that make up the floor. Kravitz is staring down at her, lip curled.

She grins. “Not even gonna help me up? Rude.”

“I think you can get up yourself.” He crosses his arms. “What was that about?”

She reaches behind her and lifts herself, with some struggle, to her feet. Her knees ache and the palms of her hands feel as if she hit them against a wall a dozen times over. Not to mention her back. She winces. Who knew that removing one's soul from an inanimate object could be so painful?

Once she settles into a stable standing position, she responds, “I mean, what kind of reaper would I be if I just let my coworker continue on his serial-killing spree?”

“I’m serious, Lup.”

She clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes to distract from the fact that she doesn’t know how to respond. She needs to think of a good lie. Quick.

One of them hadn’t died before, maybe. Although he’d see right through that one, given the fact that he has reaper senses. Or they didn’t really commit any crimes (intentionally, anyways). Except then he’d want to know how she knew that. Or, since their faces were obscured, they could have been mistaken for other people. Though he’d probably just refer to his senses again. Maybe—

“Do you know them?”

She’s torn out of her thoughts by Kravitz’s voice, his tone accusatory and his eyes narrowed. 

She assumes her best poker face. “What? No. I mean, possibly, I guess, but I couldn’t even see their faces.” 

“Why, then? Why not let me just collect their souls and get it over with?”

She does a slow shrug, partially as a way to stall. “I think that they’re—”

He holds a hand in front of him. “No. No, don’t even try bullshitting me. Just— whatever it is you’re doing, cut it out or I’m personally kicking you back into the Astral Plane.”

Huh. That was easy.

She’s not going to stop, however. She’ll crawl her way across whatever portal he tries to shove her through and make it back to the material plane if she has to.

Without saying a word, he summons his scythe, slices open a portal, and casts a sideways glance towards her. “Let’s go.”

“Do what?”

He doesn’t look back at her. “We’re gonna ambush them.”

And then he steps through the portal.

Lup chokes down the fear that rises to her throat and forces a shaky smile, despite the fact that, currently, there’s no one else to see it but her. Once her dread has stopped clawing its way up her throat and instead fallen into the pit of her stomach, she rasps out, to no one in particular, “Rad.”

And she follows him through the portal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and later magnus will tell the story of how he single-handedly destroyed the crystal golem with a sole swing of his axe. what a legend  
> anyways how are y'all??? i really hope you enjoyed the chapter and that you're doing well!!!!! i've been playing lots of sims. currently i'm playing with a lady whose entire wardrobe is pink, has a pink house, and is a freelance artist. i have decided that i love her. later i'm gonna continue with a family on another save that has a daughter who just turned into a teen!!! her mom used to a ghost and the daughter is goth. currently i'm in the process of getting her a goth gf and they will be the goth power couple of the century  
> again, i really hoped you enjoyed the chapter and thanks so much for reading!!! NEXT TIME: more crystal kingdom shenanigans. buckle up folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> tumblr: nillial


	5. A Game of Catch the Crystal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merle Does get his arm chopped off in this one, so beware!!

Taako has decided that he’s okay with watching the world crystallize.

It wouldn’t be that bad, really. There are far worse ways to go. In terms of apocalypse, it’s a whole lot prettier— a death by fire would mean ash and suffocating air and scorched skin, while a death by frost would mean blue fingertips and chapped lips and the blinding white of sunlight glinting off of snow. A world engulfed by pink tourmaline is much better. It’s quick, it’s painless, and everyone and everything would be statuesque. Who could ask for more?

As he exits Hodgepodge’s chambers, he kicks a pebble of tourmaline towards the far wall. A spot the crystal had apparently missed the first time is filled when the pebble hits it, rock creeping across the surface. 

If this mission had been sitting back and watching tiny versions of his team members fight cockroaches like the last chamber, he would be elated. But it’s not— it’s scientists with congestion problems and monsters that look like giant Himalayan salt rocks and solving trivia for murderous robots. Which is fine. 

But something gnaws at his subconscious, nags at him, tries desperately to claw its way to the forefront of his thoughts. An idea with no determinable origin. A notion intrinsically tied to a feeling of deja vu. 

He’s seen this before, or at least something like it— total consumption. More than that, there’s the slightest tinge of  _ guilt.  _ Taako is  _ not  _ the type to let guilt worm its way into his thoughts.

If he focuses on it too intensely or for too long he develops a pounding headache, so he doesn’t. It’s another “save for later” issue, if it’s an issue at all. He’s pretty sure his blood sugar is just low— he didn’t eat  _ nearly  _ enough Candlenights cookies. 

Whatever. He’s getting paid for this.

It better be a good sum of cash.

A hatch door slides open, unveiling the next chamber. Walking inside reveals a room that is in desperate need of repair. A giant pillar splits it down the middle. Upon closer inspection, Taako notices a yellow sticky note pressed to the side facing them.

Magnus rips it off and reads it aloud. “‘Crashed into ventilation system. Going on ahead. Meet you at elevators. K.’”

“Is that ‘K’ like ‘kay’?” asks Merle.

“No, I think it’s K like Special K,” Magnus replies.

Taako leans against the pillar. “Maybe it’s K for Kate Winslet.”

Merle speaks up. “Kate Winslet is here?” 

“K for Kate Winslet sounds like the sequel to V for Vendetta,” says Magnus.

Taako is about to respond, but is interrupted by a small voice asking, “Hello?”

There’s a beat of silence. They all look at one another, then back at the pillar. Magnus replies, “Hello?”

The sound of grinding gears and the whirring of machinery echoes off the walls. From behind the pillar emerges a robot whose body seems to be hastily thrown together out of bits of scrap metal and wiring. The legs are that of mismatched wheels— one from a bicycle, one from a shopping cart— and the arms, too, don’t quite fit together, as one seems to be from a claw machine and the other from a robot much more advanced, complete with LED lights, a sleek appearance, and a design similar to that of a human arm. The head is a simple metal box with different parts pressed onto it in an attempt to resemble a face. For the mouth, a speaker. For the eyes, camera lenses of differing shape and size. Not only that, but the exposed wiring on the sides of the head are reminiscent of pigtails. The torso itself is just a washing machine with a few alterations, one of which is a tag welded onto the shoulder—  _ No. 3113. _

_ Dunk, _ he thinks.

-

“Damn,” says Kravitz as they cross onto the other side of the portal. “How many rooms in here have this rock in them?”

Lup takes in their surroundings. Again, they’re standing in a laboratory room, all of which is covered in pink crystal. Counters, stray metal parts, and spilled toolboxes all are encased in a shell of rose-colored glass. The floor and ceiling have the occasional spike jutting out of them, but nothing like the room they first entered into. Not nearly as reminiscent as a cave. This just looks like an elaborate modern art piece. 

“Maybe he’s making his lab into one big salt lamp,” she says.

“Sounds like a great idea,” he replies, breaking off a chunk of crystal from the tip of a short stalagmite where the point has thinned into something especially brittle. He begins to lazily toss it in the air and catch it as if it were a ball. “Anyways, our ambush.”

Lup forces down the nausea in her stomach. She was hoping it’d slip his mind. “Right.”

He starts to stroll towards the other end of the room. She follows. “Got any ideas?”

She relaxes, if only a little. No ideas means no action. “Why would I have ideas when you’re the one who suggested it?”

“I just— I figured—” He sighs. “Didn’t you brag about being a genius fighter?”   


“Appreciate the praise, my man—”

“Not praise—”

“— and while I am a genius—”

“Debatable—”

“— I fight with my sick fire magic. I can do ambushes when need be, but, you know, my magic’s still a little wacky. It’s not gonna be much of a surprise if my Fireball goes right over their heads.” They both pause upon reaching the far end wall. “Besides, ambushes aren’t just fighting— they’re about lying in wait. Can’t ambush if we don’t know where to lie and how long to wait.”

The hatch door in front of them begins to slide open, producing the deafening sound of metal shrieking against metal. Kravitz speaks over it in a half-shout. “I have my reaper senses. I can find where they are.”

“Where they  _ are,”  _ she says. “Not where they’ll be.”

He begins to cross into the next room. “We can find out.”

_ “Or,” _ she says, “since we’re  _ not  _ scouting out the creepy crystal lab, I suggest we stay here and wait for them to come to us.”

He shoots her a look. “That’s objectively the worst idea you could have come up with.”

“No, the worst idea I could have come up with would be chilling in the Astral Plane until they die of old age, which, rest assured, I would have no qualms with doing. I’m just saying, Skeletor, they have to come through here at some point.”

“They don’t, actually. This lab is so huge and complex that they could—” Kravitz stops abruptly, hesitating for a moment, before frantically looking around their surroundings. “There’s no crystal here.”

Lup was too busy trying to get Kravitz to follow through with a plan bound to fail to notice that there is, in fact, no crystal in this room at all. Unlike the other rooms, it’s just an ordinary area with a boring tiled floor, sparse furniture, and trash scattered all over the ground. 

“Huh,” she says. “Guess he didn’t ruin his entire lab. Good for him.”

Kravitz, however, seems less nonchalant. With his eyes narrowed, he mumbles, “Yeah.”

There’s a brief moment of silence where all Lup hears is the quiet humming of the vents. Kravitz stays motionless, his face twisted in focus. She waves a hand in front of his face to get his attention.

He startles, then turns towards her. “What?”

“Just checkin’ to make sure you’re still breathing. And you’re not, so, you know, par for the course.”

“Right. Right, yeah.” He continues tossing his chunk of crystal in the air and catching it in his palm, though much gentler than he had been doing before. “Just… Why was there so much? What was he doing?”

“Something gross, no doubt,” she replies.

“Yeah.” He looks back at her. “Anyways, back to our plan.”

“Ugh, Krav, I thought we went over this. Can’t we just chill out for a little bit?”

“We’re not just waiting, Lup. They’ll escape.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“I don’t—” He sighs. “What if I just try to reap them from behind?”

“God, no. I mean, where’s the flair in that? The panache? If we’re doing some surprise attack, we’re doing it right.”

“I don’t reap people for the drama of it all, Lup.”

She squints. “Don’t you?”

_ “No.” _

“I do.”

“First of all, you don’t reap, you’re a trainee. Second of all, I wasn’t aware you had a choice.”

“Come on, Krav. You have to admit that there’s a certain inherent dramatic quality that accompanies being a Grim Reaper. I mean, every time I see myself in my cloak, I feel like goddamn Dracula. Don’t deny it. Embrace it.”

“How does wearing a cloak make you feel like Dracula?”

“It’s— How does it not? Dracula wears a cloak, right?”

“What does this have to do with anything?”

“Only trying to make a point. I’m just saying, Kravitz, reaping is a dramatic profession and that, at least partly, drew you in.”

“I thought we were supposed to be planning an attack.”   


“Oh, your silence on this matter says multitudes,” she replies, leaning against the wall. “Listen, bud, I already gave you my plan. It’s your turn now.”

He releases an exaggerated sigh. Probably only to let her know how utterly annoyed he is.

Finally, he says,”I have… _ a _ plan.”

Lup straightens. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he says. “This is Lucas Miller’s lab. He’s also a death criminal, so they have to be working for him. Otherwise, I don’t know why they’re here. I’m thinking we reap him— easy job, by the way, he’d probably die if you hit him with a good enough punch— and then we access his PA system, or… whatever he has, and we impersonate him. We tell them that there’s an emergency and they need to come to his main office immediately. Once they’re there, we attack. Sound good?”   


It occurs to Lup that she didn’t really need to convince him to follow a plan that was unlikely to work. She could have just left him to his own devices and gotten the same result.

“Sounds great,” she tells him.

He narrows his eyes. “You think it’s dumb.”

“What? No! No.”

“I can tell when you’re holding back laughter, Lup.”

She purses her lips tighter and bites further down on the corners of her mouth. “I’m not— I’m not holding back laughter.”

“I know it’s not the greatest plan, but we don’t have a lot right now. I’m getting the bad ideas out now to lay the foundation for better ones.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It’s a thing.”

“That’s just what you tell yourself to feel like less of a dumbass.”

He scoffs and tosses the chunk of crystal he was holding at her. She stares him dead in the eyes and lets it hit her. It falls to the floor with a soft  _ clink. _

“Violence is never the answer, Krav,” she tells him. 

But Kravitz doesn’t glare at her, nor insult her, nor reply to her at all. Instead, he just stares at the floor.

Lup, with some hesitation, follows his gaze towards the ground below. 

On the spot where the crystal had fallen lies what she can only describe as a puddle. Or, at least, it’s puddle-shaped— as if the crystal had melted upon making contact with the ground, yet stayed solid. And it expands, slowly at first and then exponentially quicker, crawling across the tiles, seeping into the cracks in between, creeping up the walls as if intends to consume everything in its path. It digs its way under her shoes and, before she can even think of stepping away, it covers the ground she stands on. When she lifts her feet, there’s a thin shoe print molded into the rock beneath her, spiderwebbed with cracks. By the time she glances up, it’s covered the entirety of the room. What was before a bland laboratory workroom is now a cavern of glittering pink crystal.

Jaws dropped, eyes wide, she and Kravitz share a look. 

And then a grin spreads across Kravitz’s face. 

“I know how we’re going to attack,” he tells her, his voice almost a whisper.

Before she can say anything else, he squeezes his eyes shut and goes completely still. 

“Kravitz?” she asks. 

He doesn’t reply.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

There’s only silence, save for the distant whirring of machinery. 

She opens her mouth once again, but he interrupts her. With a smile on his face, he says, “Found them.”

He searches the room frantically until he finds what he’s looking for, which ends up being a spot on the leg of a table where the crystal thins out. He gives it a hard kick. It shatters into pieces. Immediately after its removal, new rock begins to grow in its place. 

Lup staggers backwards. “Seriously, Kravitz, what the fuck?”

He doesn’t respond. He only picks up the pieces of crystal and shoves them into his pocket. Then, he stretches out his palm. In seconds, his scythe forms. He creates a portal with a quick slice.

He digs around for the crystal he had just pocketed. Still grinning, he tosses it into the open portal.

Lup feels the blood drain out of her face.

She doesn’t speak, doesn’t yell, doesn’t scream at him to stop. She can’t— her throat is already swollen and if she still had to breathe, she’d be choking on air. She shoves him aside. He shouts something, but she doesn’t hear beyond the blood rushing through her ears. With a leap, she dives through the portal, hands outstretched.

And then there’s darkness, and then there’s light, and then there’s a pink rock in the air. Lup sails forward, and, through some miracle, snatches it before it hits the ground. She lands on the floor with a hard thump, squeezing her eyes shut in response to the ache spreading through her torso.

When she opens her eyes, she sees them.

For the first time in ten years, she sees them.

Not through the confines of an umbrella, but here. In the material plane. She’s here. They’re here. Together.

Taako, Magnus, and Merle.

And they look terrified.

Magnus is positioned in front of them, his hands gripping the handle of his axe, his eyes wide, his mouth parted. Merle, in turn, clutches his bible to his chest, his feet apart, his knees bent, ready to move. And Taako—

She knows what Taako looks like when he’s afraid. He doesn’t like to show it, nor does he like to speak of actual, genuine fear. He’ll joke about it— make passive aggressive comments about how dumb whatever he doesn’t want to do is, or roll his eyes and say that  _ he’s not in the mood to die today, thank you very much—  _ but he won’t express it, not really, because fear means vulnerability and he doesn’t enjoy being any kind of vulnerable. He’ll conceal it as best he can until confronted with danger, in which case his face betrays him.

When he’s scared, his jaw will slack, his shoulders will tense, his eyes will widen, and he’ll go still. When he’s really afraid, he’d always squeeze her hand.

Now, his jaw is slack, his shoulders are tense, his eyes are wide, he’s entirely still— and while one hand is firmly at his side, the other is clenched into a fist, hovering in the air beside him. 

Lup’s heart breaks.

In a small, trembling voice, she asks, “Taako?”

His breath hitches. For the first time in a decade, she hears his voice ring clearly throughout the room, not muffled and not distorted by the umbrella’s magic. Hoarse and shaking, just loud enough to be heard, she hears her brother choke out, “What the  _ fuck?” _

She opens her mouth to say something, although she’s not sure what, when she feels a pair of hands grab her by the feet and pull her through to the other side of the portal. 

She yelps as she slides out the other side, rocks digging into her back, a sharp pain traveling up her spine. When she comes to a stop and opens her eyes, Kravitz is glaring down at her.

“Hey,” she says.

“Lup,” he asks, his voice eerily steady, “what’s in your hands?”

Her grasp around the crystal tightens. She tries to discreetly place her hands on her stomach and shove it into her cloak.

“No.” He reaches down and grabs her wrist before she has a chance to put her plan into motion. “Open your hands.”

“I’m not a toddler, Krav. You can’t demand I show you what I have.” There’s a beat of silence. “Which is nothing.”

He releases a deep sigh. Then he tries to peel her fingers back.

She wrestles against him, does her best to force her fingers back down and push his hands away, but the damage is already done. It only takes a moment for him to force her index finger back and see the glittering pink stone she’s clutching.

He pulls away and straightens his posture, crossing his arms as he does. “You  _ caught  _ the crystal,” he hisses, seething. “I  _ had  _ them and you  _ caught the fucking crystal.” _

She props herself onto her elbows and darts her gaze around the room, as if looking around will provide her a believable explanation. “It’s just— you can’t— I can’t—”

He holds up a hand. “Don’t.”

She hesitates. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Lup. I know what you’re doing.” 

She feels herself tense. “You do?”

“I do,” he says. “You’re still on your mission to make my life hell.”

Oh.

A sense of relief washes over her and she lets herself relax. It’s not like she’d forgotten her oath to make him miserable— she’s still determined to stick to her word, in fact— but she didn’t consider it as a scapegoat to cover up her  _ other  _ personal mission of keeping her brother and her friends from getting killed. Thank God Kravitz figured it out for her. That makes things much easier to explain.

“You caught me,” she says, shrugging. “But you did murder me, so can you blame me?”

“You’re not going to keep me from this bounty. You can try all you want, but you won’t.” He summons his scythe and slices downward, closing the portal behind her and opening a new one in front of her. “Let’s go.”

She rises to her feet and follows.

-

“I can’t believe that lady stole your face,” Magnus tells him as they make their way to the next room.

Taako grimaces as a chill travels through him. He can’t rid her face from his mind, and yet he can’t quite fathom it either. She looked so much like him— he knows that— but he can’t envision her, can’t remember what she looked like, can’t emulate her voice in his mind. When he tries, his head begins to throb and his ears ring with the crackling of static. “She’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”

“You have lawyers?” asks Merle.

“She’ll be hearing from me pretending to be a lawyer,” he says. 

Magnus kicks a stray screw across the hallway. It bounces off the other end of the wall and clatters to the ground with a soft  _ clink. _ “How’d she know your name?”

Taako, although he doesn’t show it, feels the smallest bout of panic rise inside of him. It’s a question he was hoping no one would ask because he doesn’t know the answer. He’s not sure he wants to. And yet he feels the faintest something clawing at his mind, nagging at him, begging him to find out. He tells that part of him to shut the fuck up because he can’t deal with both identity theft and the imminent apocalypse right now. “Maybe she’s a fan of mine,” he tells him. “She wanted an autograph, I bet. Or hair to sell on Fantasy eBay.”

“You don’t have fans.”

“I have so many fans.”

“Where are they, then?”

“Did you see that crystal monster dude? He was all over me.”

“He was all over Merle, actually.”

“I don’t want the crystal golem monster to be all over me!” Merle complains.

Taako reaches down to pat him on the shoulder. “Fame isn’t a life you choose, my good man.”

They stop upon reaching two doors, each leading to separate rooms. One is labeled as a Death Laser Calibration Chamber and the other is scribbled out and instead marked simply as “hugbears.” Lucas’s voice comes crackling through the Stone of Farspeech, asking them to go into the Death Laser Chamber, but Magnus instead tells him that they’re going into the hugbear room. Personally, after the repeated attempts on their lives in the short span of time that they’ve been in the lab, he isn’t fond of either idea.

Still, he approaches the door, thoughts of the woman he saw plaguing his mind.

-

They spend the next several minutes navigating through the lab’s ungodly amount of rooms, many of which are either derelict or simple workstations containing half-built machines, failed projects, and sheets of notebook paper with illegible print scattered haphazardly across table surfaces. Others are designated for the development and testing of a sole successful invention. Others still have their own functions— a kitchen, a laundry room, a guest bedroom that looks more like a prison cell. However, since the majority of the rooms have been overtaken by crystal, all of their variety and purposes are lost and instead are just rocky caverns.

“Why are we trying to find our way through here when you have those lich senses?” she asks, kicking aside a pebble.

“Because,” he says, pressing a button to make a hatch open, “I’m trying to track where they’ve been, not where they are now.”

“What for?”

“Because I want to know what they’re doing here. Maybe it can give us some clue as to how to efficiently reap them.”

She won’t complain. Whatever stalls him long enough for everyone to escape unscathed. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. So what are they doing here?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you.” He steps away from the keypad he was button-mashing as the hatch door slides open. “It just doesn’t make a lot of sense right now.”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re dumb.”

“Wow, Lup. You’re just  _ so  _ witty.”

“I know.” She follows him through to the next room, which is, yet again, covered in crystal. “It’s one of my many great qualities.”

He mumbles something under his breath— praise and agreement, no doubt— as he lowers himself to the ground to examine the floor. She isn’t sure if he actually has a method to investigating or if he’s just playing detective. “I just… I don’t understand,” he says. “Why would they be here if not for this crystal?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that this crystal is everywhere. And it’s dangerous. It spreads across everything that it touches, it’s damaged most of this lab, it could kill a lot of people if it was in the wrong place.” He taps on the crystal encasing the floor. “Don’t you think it’s weird that they’re here now? When they could get killed just by touching a rock? I mean, have you ever seen anything like this before?”

Lup is about to formulate a response, but her entire train of thought halts when a newfound realization hits her. 

They’re here for a relic, obviously, although Kravitz wouldn’t understand that and she’s more than willing to let him tire himself out trying to solve a nonexistent mystery. She can’t imagine why all three of them would be away from the Bureau of Balance base for any other reason, unless Lucretia had gotten pretty lax with the use of the cannons. But the question is— which relic?

As soon as she asks herself, the answer pops into her mind.

Taako isn’t one to dwell on guilt, nor one to assign himself any guilt in the first place. He likes to move on and keep moving. Lup can’t exactly blame him— she’s the same way, although she succumbs to shame much easier and expresses remorse openly. But she remembers the little girl and the town of peppermint. She remembers when Taako first heard that the relic he created, imbued with the magic and desire he had enchanted it with, had been found and utilized by a child. She didn’t want power or control, like so many of the relic users tried to obtain when they succumbed to its thrall. She wanted something simple. Something innocent. She wanted candy.

And then the relic wreaked unmentionable havoc, killing hundreds. It turned every inch of the city into peppermint candy, including its people. Everything it touched was consumed. 

Taako didn’t speak much for the next couple of days, nor did he leave his room very often. To the outside observer, that probably wouldn’t mean much, but to his sister and to those who had lived with him for a century, it was clear that he was ashamed. His relic had been used again after that, but no instance of its utilization affected him nearly as much as the peppermint town did.

Now, she sees the peppermint again, minus a Taako that both knows of and cares about the true nature of the relics. She sees it crawling up the walls, creeping its way across the floor, devouring everything it comes into contact with. Except now the peppermint is in the form of a different material. Now it’s pink crystal.

This is Taako’s relic.

Kravitz interrupts her thoughts when he comes to a sudden halt in the middle of the room. “I know what we’re going to do.”

“I thought we were gonna figure out what they were doing.”

“I don’t care right now. They’re both death criminals, they’re probably doing some death magic— it’s whatever. I just had the  _ best  _ idea.”

Fuck. “What kind of idea?”   


“Just…” He grins. “Watch this.” 

Kravitz searches the room for a chunk of crystal that’s come loose from its surroundings and comes across a rock the size of his palm. He summons his scythe in his free hand and just barely slices the air beside him, creating a small rift. “Okay,” he says. “Come here.”

She narrows her eyes. “Why?”

“Just— just do it.”

She takes a step forward, and, at Kravitz’s behest, approaches him until she’s within arm’s length. Once she is, he links arms with her and Lup’s vision fades to white.

She blinks once, then twice, and then she’s in the white space again. And there’s Kravitz, staring out a window into the material plane. 

“What the fuck?” she asks. “Could you do that the whole time?”

“Of course I could.”

“Why didn’t you do that before instead of making  _ me  _ go into possession-mode? It would’ve been so much easier.”

“You have to learn how to do it yourself. It’s one of the completion requirements for reaper training.” He pauses. “I think. Anyways, my cool reaper tricks isn’t the reason why I brought you here.”

“Then what is?”

A smile spreads across his face. “This.”

He heads towards the chunk of crystal he’d found, which is now lying on the ground, and possesses it, as he did before. His vision goes glassy and pink, but he still manages to lift himself up and make his way towards the small rift he’d opened earlier. There’s a brief moment where everything goes dark and then rapidly shifts in color, but they’re soon on the other side, where Lup can see three silhouettes that she instantly knows are Taako, Magnus, and Merle. Magnus is swinging something at what she thinks is a door, Taako is slinging spells at it, and Merle is standing off to the side. 

Whatever Kravitz has planned, she doesn’t like it.

“Okay,” he says, “watch this.”

Kravitz clears his throat and then begins to speak in a whisper, although it seems to shake the void they stand in, causing Lup to trip over herself.  _ “Merle,” _ he says, his tone gentle and quiet,  _ “Merle, behind you.” _

Lup’s heart leaps into her throat. “Stop!” she hisses.

“Relax. This is mostly for comedic purposes anyway.”   


“Mostly?”

“If he falls for it, it’s not my fault he’s stupid.” He returns to projecting his voice into the material plane. _ “Merle…” _ Lup can see him holding back laughter and failing.  _ “Merle, look behind you, damn it!” _

Merle stays where he is. She silently begs him to keep ignoring him.

Kravitz, however, continues between his fits of laughter.  _ “Merle, it’s Pan. Look behind you, you fool!” _

Merle hesitates, then turns around to face them.  _ Shit. _

Her shoulders tense. “What are you doing?”

“I do a great Pan impression, right?” he asks, beaming. 

“Stop it! Stop!”

“I’m only getting started.” He takes a second to compose himself, and then continues. _ “Merle, listen, you have to trust me. It’s me, Pan.”  _ He purses his lips to keep from laughing.  _ “You have to grab the crystal.” _

She shoves him, but he barely stumbles. “Kravitz. Stop.”

He ignores her.  _ “Grab it with your hands before it touches the ground!” _

“Kravitz!”

_ “You can stop this room from being crystalized!” _

Lup grabs him by the arm and pulls, but he only laughs. “Come on, stop it!”

_ “You can save your friends!” _ He snorts. _ “Grab the crystal!” _

“Kravitz!”

He bursts into a fit of giggles, doubling over. Lup only feels her face growing hot with panic. “It’s not that funny,” she says.

“It kind of is,” Kravitz tells her between breaths. “My Pan voice is beyond reproach. I should just retire and become a Pan impersonator.”

“That was fucked up, Krav.”

“Oh, please, Lup. They’re our  _ bounties. _ We’re supposed to kill them. Why not have a little fun doing it?” he says. “Besides, only a total moron would fall for the shit I’m pulling.”

Suddenly, the ground beneath them quakes and they’re pulled in one direction. Lup staggers and falls to the invisible floor beneath her, along with Kravitz. He scrambles to rise and peer out of the window into the material plane. His eyes widen.

Lup, still on the floor and too afraid to get up, asks, “What? What happened?”

There’s a pause. Kravitz swallows thickly. “Um…”

“What is it?”

He turns towards her, but doesn't look her in the eyes. “He grabbed it.”

“He  _ what?” _

From outside, she hears the muffled sound of wailing and “Let me chop it off!” There’s protests and shouting and panicked yells, followed by more chaos and then, finally, “Chop the damn thing off! Chop it off! Just chop it off!” 

And then there’s the grotesque sound of flesh tearing, a dull thump on the ground, and more than one pained scream. 

Lup and Kravitz share a look, although it holds multiple meanings. Incredulity, disgust, horror— mostly, Lup is just trying to communicate to Kravitz that what he’s done is indeed fucked up. From the way his mouth gapes and his gaze goes vacant, she gets the feeling he understands.

“I think we should go,” he tells her, his voice a squeak.

Lup nods, but can’t manage to say anything. Kravitz lifts them up and they exit through the small rift he’d opened earlier, trying to ignore the shouting below them. 

They come through the other side and Kravitz removes them from the white space, sending them back into their physical projections. They remain silent.

And then, after a few minutes of tense, uncomfortable quiet, Lup says, “I told you.”

“Don’t start, Lup.”

“Nah, I told you. I  _ said  _ that this was fucked up.”

“I—” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I didn’t think they’d cut off his arm.”

“Mm, but they did.”

“I see that.” Kravitz runs a hand down his face. “Okay. We are supposed to kill them, so, you know, technically, it was almost a job well done.”

“You didn’t kill him, Krav. You made them  _ chop his fuckin’ arm off.” _

“How could I know that was the course of action they were going to take? He could have just died!”

“Would you have preferred that? Is that what you wanted?”

“Yes! That’d be our biggest bounty down! That would have been the best outcome!”

“Listen to the things you say. Listen. Listen to the words that come out of your mouth. I am begging you, Kravitz.”

“We have to kill these people one way or another.”

“Do you want to know what you sound like right now? A serial killer. You sound like a serial killer.”

“This is your job too, Lup.”

“I wasn’t the one who caused some poor dude to get his arm amputated with an axe in the middle of a laboratory that’s ninety percent garbage and rocks. I also don’t remember murdering  _ myself.” _

“I didn’t murder you! I’m not a murderer!”

“You  _ just  _ said that we have to kill these people. Those are the words that  _ just  _ left your mouth.”

“We’re killing them because they’ve died before! They’re messing with the laws of life and death!”

“Oh, fantastic. So we’re hitmen for the Raven Queen. That’s much better.”

“I—” He purses his lips, squeezes his eyes shut, and steadies himself, releasing a deep sigh. “Let’s move on.”

“Now you’re just avoiding the fact that you’re a legitimate murderer.”   


“No,” he says, “I just want to forget about that guy chopping off his arm.”

“Which you caused.”

“We’re leaving now.”

“Confront the truth.”

“We have to come up with a better plan. Something more efficient.”

“You should be tried in a court of law.”

Kravitz summons his scythe, and, in one swift motion, opens up yet another portal. He faces her over his shoulder. “I’m going to keep trying to figure out why they’re here. Three of the same death criminals presumably helping out another death criminal, all of which have committed major crimes— there’s something going on. While I do that, we can come up with a new plan of attack and enact it when they’re least expecting us.” He swivels on his heel, leaning on his scythe like a staff. “Are you coming with me?”

She would really, really appreciate it if he stopped trying to murder her brother and her friends. But she supposes she’s the only one here who’s able to stop him.

“Fine,” she says. 

And they cross into the portal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello folks!!!!  
> how are y'all? i've been eating a lot of hot pockets and chips. unfortunately we are out of doritos which is the one thing i really want right now. rip. also i drank a diet pepsi and felt somethin weird in my mouth and it was DIRT. i drank dirt! disgostang!!!!!!!!!!!!! now that i've finished publishing this i'm gonna eat a sandwich and finish my game of tomb raider. if u cannot tell from how much i'm talking about food im pretty hungry at the moment  
> anyways!!!! i really hope you enjoyed!!! things are gonna start really moving along next chapter so watch out!!! speaking of next chapters........ NEXT CHAPTER: a visit from mr. red robe himself and a crystal golem FIGHT!!!!!!!  
> thank you for reading!!!!!!  
> tumblr: nillial


	6. Just People

Everything is going moderately well, ignoring the fact that something is trying to kill them, Merle had to have his arm replaced, and they’re being forced to listen to Lucas’s presentation about the cosmos. Which, he hates to admit, isn’t boring. Instead, he actually finds it engaging.

Taako’s  _ not  _ a nerd, however. 

Lucas flips a switch on the far wall. As soon as he does, the lights dim, attracting attention to the deep blue disk hovering in the center of the room. It emits a cerulean glow, casting shadows on the faces of those surrounding it. Orbiting that disk are ten separate disks, all of varying colors, all containing things Taako can’t quite fathom. In one, there’s a world of lava and fire, awash in the sort of calm chaos that arises when destruction has become the norm— in another, a world that is only water, where the waves have no surface to break upon and the depths of the ocean extend forever, rich with creatures he’d never have the capacity to imagine. There’s a world dotted with lights, a world containing unprecedented magical energy, a world with nothing at all— it’s breathtaking.

But, again, Taako is  _ not  _ a nerd.

Lucas tells them that they’re looking at the planar system and its countless complexities simplified into a visual structure. He goes on to elaborate on a few of those complexities, including a brief explanation on how the planar system works and the way the planes interact with one another. A part of Taako feels like he’s heard this before, although he doesn’t know where or when. Probably from one of the books he stole from the library when he was a kid. Somewhere, he has a stack of library cards from different towns, all taken out in different ridiculous-sounding names and all used only once. Still,  _ not  _ a nerd.

He’s in the middle of explaining why he needed the Philosopher’s Stone— to take a peek into other planes, apparently— when he mentions that he wants to circle back to Merle’s question about the planar system. Lucas opens his mouth to continue his presentation. 

And then time  _ freezes. _

The disks in the middle of the room stop spinning. The distant hum of machinery stops whirring. There’s an eerie sort of silence permeating the area he sits in. Taako turns his head, both to look around and to make sure that he’s still able to move. Carey, Killian, and NO-3113 all are motionless, perfectly frozen in different positions. Magnus and Merle, however, seem unaffected, although equally as disturbed as Taako.

From beside him, he hears a deep, gravelly voice echoing the same query Merle expressed earlier:  _ WHAT’S BIGGER THAN THIS? _

It’s a whisper of a voice that doesn’t stem from any physical source, but instead crawls into his mind, manifesting as a thought. He suppresses a shiver. He also suppresses the urge to make a dick joke, which is a much more difficult task.

Hesitantly, he turns his head to see a ghostly figure in a red robe.

Magnus instantly takes to attacking him, though his axe only passes through him. Upon realizing that he can’t hurt him, he does what the three of them do best: berating him. He stands in the same place as the ghost, blending in with him, making the ghost float upwards and excuse himself. The ghost introduces himself— apparently, he’d spoken to them in Goldcliff about the hunger of all living things, which Taako kind of recalls, although he mostly remembers the part where he got a giant cash prize for winning the race. After, he makes his way towards a crate against the back corner, tips it over, and allows a few gemstone disks to spill out of it. A disk that is entirely and purely black save for a few flecks of color begins to shake and then rise, releasing a dark cloud that consumes the disks floating in the center of the room. Screams emerge from each plane that it devours. Taako’s stomach twists into knots. 

_ THERE IS NO MORE RUNNING,  _ he says.  _ THERE IS NO ESCAPE. THIS WORLD IS LIFE’S LAST CHANCE. _

“I kind of liked it when we didn’t have this much responsibility,” says Merle. 

“Yeah, I’m not into it,” Taako replies. “You know, this whole problem could be solved if I still had my umbrella. It would have just gobbled up this guy’s soul and nobody would have ever tried to make us save the world.”

The Red Robe swivels around at an inhuman speed to face him.  _ UMBRELLA? _

He hesitates, though only for a second. He lets the fear drain from his eyes and instead assumes his usual nonchalant countenance. “Yeah, I had an umbrella. It was really cool. Ate dead guys, cast spells, protected me from rain. The works.”

_ WHERE? WHERE DID YOU FIND IT? _

He shrugs. “In some cave. It was stickin’ out of a skeleton. Had a snazzy red robe like you, actually.”

The Red Robe begins to shake, electricity as his fingertips.  _ TAAKO, _ he says,  _ WHERE IS THAT UMBRELLA? _

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

_ WHERE, TAAKO? _

He has the feeling that things are about to break bad. “Uh…” He casts his gaze to the side. “I broke it.”

At that, the electricity that was dancing at the Red Robe’s fingers before spreads, crackling throughout his body. It strikes at the floor, then the walls, reaching across the room and burning anything it touches. The scent of ozone that the Red Robe seems to emit intensifies, clogging Taako’s senses. The Red Robe himself flickers in and out of existence, fabric rippling behind him as he shouts, furious and incandescent,  _ YOU LOST HER? _

There’s a burst of flame and the Red Robe is gone. As time returns to normal, light again fills the room and Lucas asks, “— What’s bigger than this?”

Taako, Magnus, and Merle all share a look.

-

“I’m lost,” Lup says. “What are you doing?”

Kravitz looks up from arranging raven feathers on the floor. “I’m done with the bullshit,” he says. “I’m going to collect their souls.” 

She knows she shouldn’t, but she can’t resist teasing him. “Been real successful so far.”

He shoots her a glare. “I would have had them the first time if  _ someone  _ hadn’t actively tried to stop me.”

“When I told you I was going to ruin your afterlife, I wasn’t kidding. I made a commitment and I’m sticking to it.” 

“Clearly,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

She crosses her arms and leans against the wall, the jagged points of crystal digging into her skin. “You still haven’t explained what you’re doing.”

“I’m scrying,” he tells her, plucking yet another feather from his cloak and setting it down. “There’s this ritual you can do to commune with the Raven Queen, but, you know, if you don’t have a mirror or a crystal ball on hand, it also works as a medium for a scrying spell.”

“So you’re gonna stalk our bounties and see what happens?”

“It’s not stalking. Why do you make it sound like I commit so many violent crimes?”

“You kill people for a living.”

_ “Collect souls. _ Jesus, Lup, are you ever going to let that go?” He finishes organizing his five raven feathers into the shape of a circle, then sits up and clasps his hands together. “Alright. We’re gonna watch them and take them down at their most vulnerable. Sound good?”

It doesn’t sound good. She very much would not like to participate in the potential murder of her twin brother and her closest friends. In fact, she might just accidentally step on and ruin Kravitz’s feather scrying spell two minutes into his spying, claiming she’d tripped over a crystal sticking out of the ground. Effectively stopping Kravitz from killing half her family— that sounds good.

But, instead of protesting, she swallows her fear and reluctance and says, “Fantastic.” 

“Well, then,” he grins, his hands hovering over the feathers, “let’s get started.”

She watches as Kravitz silently activates the spell, creating a swirling, rippling window into the room Taako, Magnus, and Merle reside in. She peers over his shoulder, but Kravitz hogs most of the space the window provides, obscuring her view. She elbows in beside him to get a better look. He tries to complain, but Lup only shushes him.

She sees them all in a large room, all seated in a circle with a man she’s never seen before in the center. He’s the only one wearing a lab coat over the weird jumpsuit he and all the others are wearing, so she assumes that he’s both the owner of the labs and very self-important. Among people she doesn’t recognize are a dragonborn woman, whose arms are crossed and whose legs are propped up on the seat across from her, and a robot who sits with her arms folded in her lap and her posture straight. There’s an orc woman, too, and although the view is top-down and she can’t see anyone’s faces, Lup recognizes her vaguely— she was there not long after they found Lup, trying to collect the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet. She wasn’t too bad, in Lup’s opinion. Granted, she did attempt to kill her brother and friends, but she seems to have gotten over that.

And, of course, there are Taako, Magnus, and Merle. 

Again, she can’t see their faces because of the perspective the scrying spell provides, but she doesn’t need to. Taako and Merle are next to one another, Magnus across from them, and they all seem to be watching the man in the lab coat. From the way he’s gesticulating, he must be doing some sort of speech. Then the orc woman jabs her pointer finger in his direction and, as he backs away, she turns her head towards Magnus, who seems to be trying to talk with her. As they speak, Lup sees a pile of goo creep in from the corner of the room, spilling out onto the floor before it consumes the entire area in one fell swoop. The floor beneath them shifts to a deep sapphire. It’d actually be beautiful if it wasn’t incredibly concerning. 

It doesn’t stay long, however. The sapphire soon turns into emerald, and then to some sort of orange gemstone, and then fluctuates wildly between different colors and variations of crystals before it settles on amethyst. The man in the lab coat takes something out of his pocket, presses a button, and then violet volts of electricity envelop everyone besides him, forcing them to collapse to the ground, unmoving. He dashes out of the room unscathed.

Lup decides she really doesn’t like that man.

“Well,” says Kravitz, “that was easier than I thought it was going to be.” He stands up and dispels the scrying spell, willing his scythe to his hand.

Lup, too, rises from the ground. “What are you going to do?”

“Because they’re at their most vulnerable right now, thanks to whatever Lucas Miller did to them, we’ll just pop in and steal their souls. Simple as that. Lucas is our other bounty, so it’s not great that he escaped, but he shouldn’t be too hard to find nor catch. We’ll be out of here and rolling in cash in no time.” He tears open a rift in space. “Ready?”

Lup ignores the fear burning in her chest. “‘Course.”

He grins. “Let’s fuck shit up.” 

He grabs her by the arm. There’s a flash of darkness, and then she’s in the white void next to Kravitz. He makes his way through the portal and into the room where Taako, Magnus, and Merle reside. Immediately, he heads toward a stray shard of crystal and possesses it, causing his vision to go cloudy and pink, as per the last time he possessed the crystal. This time, however, he refrains from building himself a body. Instead, he turns towards her and says, “I think now would be a good time for another lesson in reaper skills.”

Lup furrows her brow and crosses her arms. “Mm, I’m not so sure. You’re kind of in the middle of a possession.”

He ignores her. “You’re an evocationist, right?”

“The best,” she replies. “Why?”   


“Cast telepathy on me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Hesitantly, she casts telepathy on Kravitz, though she feels its brittleness the moment she does. Although she can manage them, high level spells are still somewhat difficult for her. Already, she senses the spell waning. Still, it seems to be good enough for Kravitz.

“Great,” he says. “Now for Part 2 of the lesson.”

And then he grabs her by the shoulder and shoves her through the window to the material plane.

Lup soars across the room until she hits what she thinks is a wall. She can’t quite see— she’s still in the white void, but this time with her own view into the material plane. She’s also, presumably, a little ball of light right now. She pities everyone else in the room: paralyzed, about to be killed, and, on top of that, there’s a weird night light floating around. 

_ Lup? _

She pities herself more, though. Now she has Kravitz’s voice in her head.

_ What the fuck, Krav? _ she replies, trying her best to convey her annoyance via thought.

_ I figured you could possess your own crystal. Make your own monster. DIY. _

She places her hands on her hips, although he can’t see it.  _ So you pushed me into another plane? _

_ Well, I had to separate you from my crystal somehow.  _

She didn’t know they could just claim the crystals. As soon as this is over, she’s calling dibs on every crystal she sees.  _ What happened to me not being able to possess things because of the ‘potential havoc’ I’d be ‘liable to wreak?’” _   


_ Wreaking havoc is something that’d be beneficial in this situation, I think. So… go ahead, Lup. Fuck shit up. _

She’d love to fuck shit up, but not if she’s expected to murder her family. Instead, she’ll use her newfound possessing abilities and free will to her advantage.  _ How do I do the crystal monster thing, then? _

_ Easy. First, you possess a crystal, which you already know how to do, I think. _

_ Yeah, _ she tells him, _ I can become a crystal. Go on. _

_ Then, to summon other crystals to form your body, you’ll just need—  _ There’s a warped humming noise that makes her ears ring, and then silence. But, once again, she hears,  _ — and third, you’ll have to sort of shape— _ and the ringing returns, lasting for a long while before Kravitz’s voice pops into her mind with  _ — by then, you’ll be a cool crystal monster. Got all that? _

She rubs her temples as she waits for the ringing in her ears to subside. Next training session, she’s working on casting and maintaining higher-level spells. This sucks. 

_ Lup? _ he asks.

She sighs, dropping her hands to her sides.  _ Sorry, bud, my spell wasn’t my greatest work this time around. Out of practice, didn’t do a lot of casting while I was busy being a lich, blah, blah, blah, you know the deal. Anyways, you keep cutting out. Could you repeat, like, everything you just said? _

There’s a long silence, and then,  _ What? _

Lup takes a long, deep breath. Shit.  _ Can you still hear me? _

_ Sorry—  _ There’s ringing, and then,  _ — don’t know, I think—  _ Another moment of ringing. _ — breaking up— _ More ringing, and then, finally,  _ — on your own. _

And then there’s silence.

Lup buries her face in her hands. This is not ideal. 

She doesn’t know what she’s going to do besides possess a rock and hope for the best. Still, if she does nothing, Kravitz will almost definitely kill Taako, Magnus, and Merle.

Lup searches frantically for a crystal that’s broken off from the rest of the room. Eventually, she spots a pebble lying on the ground, which, she supposes, will have to do. She takes a few steps forward, the window in front of her moving with her, but is forced to stop abruptly upon being overwhelmed with a sense of motion sickness. In the moment that she takes to pause, however, she spots Kravitz out of the corner of her eye, his own crystal rising in the air. She grimaces and sprints towards the rock, her head spinning and her stomach churning violently with every step. 

Thankfully, she collides with the crystal relatively soon. Her vision into the material plane goes pink and cloudy, just like Kravitz’s did when he became a crystal monster, so she assumes her own possession adventure is going smoothly. Now that she’s possessed the crystal, she just has to figure out what to do next. 

After standing still and looking around for a couple brief moments, she figures that going from possessing the crystal to becoming a crystal monster is going to be a much more difficult endeavor than she originally anticipated. 

Lup chews at the inside of her cheek. If only Kravitz hadn’t started cutting out at the most crucial point in her instruction— then she’d have at least some clue of what to do.

And then the solution hits her.

To determine the directions Kravitz was trying to convey to her, she has to think like Kravitz.

Lup squeezes her eyes shut and attempts to embody Kravitz’s mentality. What would an asshole do?

That probably wouldn’t get her anywhere, actually. An asshole would try to kill half Lup’s family, which is precisely what Kravitz is doing and precisely what she aims to avoid. 

So, she thinks: What would Kravitz say to her?

She recalls the times he provided her with lessons on utilizing her newfound reaper powers. Summoning her scythe, learning to possess, willing her bounty book into existence— each time, he talked as if he was a bad life coach. He often spoke to her of using  _ feeling  _ as a means to achieve her goal _.  _ Of using one's senses and emotions to manifest something extraneous.

She can do that. She can be her own shitty life coach. She can think like Kravitz.

Lup takes a deep breath to steady herself. Cautiously, she lifts both her arms to either side of her and attempts to feel herself rise. To feel her feet lift from the ground as they cease to touch the surface, feel herself relax her shoulders and release the burden of her worries as she floats upwards. 

She opens one eye and realizes that her crystal has risen a few inches off the floor.

Lup did not expect that to work, but is pleased with the outcome nonetheless. 

Now, she surmises, comes the next part in her transformation into a monster: building herself a body. She gets the feeling that this will be at least mildly more difficult than doing a little bit of floating, but resolves to do what she’s been doing: recycle Kravitz’s advice. 

Lup recalls what he’s told her before, back when he was teaching her how to possess things— about “letting go.” Does she need to let go again, maybe? Or should she instead do the opposite? Should she think about everything she desperately needs to accomplish and harness her worries into making a cool body made of rocks? That sounds like some bullshit Kravitz would come up with, right?

She sticks out an arm, focusing both on bringing pink crystals near her, shaping them as they gravitate towards her, and on all of the things she absolutely has to do. For one, keep Taako, Magnus, and Merle alive. If they don’t survive this encounter with Kravitz because she couldn’t protect them, she’ll never forgive herself. Two, she needs to make them remember her, because seeing their faces upon meeting her for the first time in a decade was heart wrenching and knowing that they have no clue who she is is getting more and more difficult to bear. Three, she has to save the fucking world, potentially by herself. She’s not quite certain how to go about that.

She squeezes her eyes shut and focuses on the numerous things weighing her down. When she peeks out, she realizes her crystal has actually fallen a couple inches closer to the ground. 

That’s one thing she’s learned, at the very least: stay positive and stay focused, or else her progress will be lost and Kravitz will most likely murder half her family before she can do anything about it. No pressure.

Lup clenches her fists and takes another slow, deep breath in, and yet another slow, deep breath out. She can do this. 

She, again, extends her arm. She focuses on the other crystals around her, calling them towards her. She shuts her eyes once again, blocking everything out but her thoughts. She imagines the crystals floating over to her,  _ feels  _ them— as Kravitz would say— take the shape of a shoulder, a forearm, a wrist, a hand, five fingers, the rock they’re composed of crunching like gravel as they move. A fully functioning arm made of crystal.

Distantly, she hears the sound of clicking and collision. When she dares to open her eyes, she sees that an arm has formed in the material plane

Fuck yeah. 

She reaches out the other arm and does the same process of focusing and feeling, although the results manifest much quicker this time. She stomps one foot, as she saw Kravitz do when he first turned into a crystal monster, and can almost physically feel the rock creep up her ankle and across her entire leg. She stomps the other and the same happens, forming a functional, badass crystal monstrosity of which she is the pilot.

Teaching herself how to build a monster body out of rocks— not bad. She should get a bonus for this.

Lup turns to look at Kravitz, hearing the dull thump of her footsteps in the material plane as she moves. He, too, has built himself a new body, although his is much sleeker than Lup’s— whereas she probably just looks like a hunk of rock, he’s constructed something reminiscent of a skeleton, complete with an open ribcage and long, sharp, bone-like fingers. It’s pretty cool, although she’d never admit it aloud.

She staggers towards him, carefully stepping around the inert bodies lying on the floor, hearing the crystal below her crack and grind underneath her weight. Kravitz’s golem crosses its arm in anticipation of her arrival.

After a lot of clumsy tottering, she stands in front of him, trying her best to communicate with him via thought despite the unreliability of her spell.  _ Pretty smart of me, huh? _

There’s only silence in response.

_ Krav? _

A voice enters her mind.  _ Oh, _ he says,  _ I heard you the first time. Telepathy spell is working again. How about that? _

_ Aren’t you gonna tell me I did a nice job? Give me a gold star? I did this all on my own, you know. No help from you. _

_ I literally could not help you, _ he tells her.  _ We had no way to communicate with one another. _

_ That’s no excuse. _

He sighs. She didn’t know he could be so exhausted that he would be able to think sighs.  _ Yeah, you did a great job. You learned how to make yourself a physical body out of objects with no instruction. I’m really impressed, actually. _

_ Oh? _ she asks.  _ What was that? _

_ I’m impressed. _

She crosses her arms, watching a few crystals fall off of her and clink to the ground as her monster-self mimics her.  _ One more time? I couldn’t hear you. _

_ I’m speaking to you directly through your brain. There is no way you couldn’t hear me. _

_ My mind drifted. I got distracted.  _

_ By what? There’s one thing in here and it’s rocks. _

_ I studied geology in college,  _ she tells him, which isn’t a lie, per se. She did take a geology class— singular— which was alright, until Taako dropped his environmental science class and decided that he, too, wanted to take geology. It worked fine, until she called Taako a dingus and he threw a rock at her, and then she threw a rock at him, and then they threw rocks at one another until they were both booted out of class.  _ Plus, there’s not just rocks. There’s also like, six people paralyzed on the floor. _

Kravitz’s stone head shifts towards the center of the room, where everyone still lies motionless.  _ Thanks for reminding me,  _ he says. Lup can nearly hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

Kravitz saunters towards them, exhibiting profound control over his golem, which manifests as a sort of weird walking style where every movement is both rigid and fluid at the same time. Lup tries to follow, but nearly trips over her own feet with every step. Kravitz, however, leans down to check on them. 

She hears Kravitz’s voice projected into the material plane and buries her face in her hands out of secondhand embarrassment. It’s Cockney. He’s decided to be Cockney again. “Well,” he tells them, “this is gonna be a lot easier than I thought.”

She wishes she knew how to speak outside of this stupid rock thing. Not to warn them of danger to come, or to beg them to remember her, or to ask them to find Barry, but to inform them that Kravitz’s accent is indeed fake and indeed awful.

He summons the book— or, at least, his golem counterpart does— and reads off of it, which, because of the blurred vision the crystal provides, Lup can only assume is an act. He knows who they are and whether or not they’ve died before, both because of his senses and because he’s been chasing them around this godforsaken laboratory like a cat chasing mice. And Lup hasn’t exactly made things easy for him, either. To be fair, however, he  _ is  _ trying to murder her brother and two of her closest friends on top of already having murdered her, so she feels she’s earned the right to be a general nuisance. 

He flips through the pages and slams the book shut with a  _ snap, _ turning to Killian and the dragonborn woman. “Well, it looks like you two aren’t on the naughty list, so, uh…” He shifts his head back towards Taako, Magnus, and Merle. “Looks like it’s just three of you on a one way trip back to the Astral Plane.”

He moves to approach them and Lup does the same, already planning on stopping him, but then he halts abruptly, instead turning his attention to the robot. “Oh, hold on!” he says. “Make that four of you.”

So either a ghost possessed some machinery or somebody stuffed a soul into a robot. If Lup were to be honest with herself, she’d have to admit that, were she not a reaper, being a ghost inside of a bot would be her next course of action vis a vis getting herself a body. It seems like a pretty sweet gig.

She hears Magnus pipe up from his spot on the floor, attempting to convince Kravitz that he’s mistaken them for somebody else, but he isn’t having it. In the middle of their argument, Merle asks, “I have a question. Why are there two of you now?”

They all look towards her. It’s a little uncomfortable.

“Oh,” Kravitz says. “That’s my assistant.”

She lifts a hand and waves.

Taako speaks from where he lay flat on the ground. “Hey!” he shouts. “If you help us, I’ll pay you more than whatever he’s giving you.”

Merle tries to talk to him in a hushed whisper, but it’s more of a quiet yell given their distance. “Taako, we spent all our money at Fantasy Costco. We don’t have any cash.”

“The Director probably does, and I bet she has to hire anyone who applies for a job. It’s not like she has a lot of options.” He again addresses her. “How would you like to be Taako’s assistant instead?”   


“What’s going on?” asks Kravitz.

“The Bureau offers dental insurance!” Taako adds. “I bet this guy doesn’t offer dental!”

“Okay, enough.” Kravitz slams his fist into the wall, crystal cracking and shattering underneath his hand, which, when he pulls it back, is only a sharp point. The remaining shards rise and levitate next to him. “Which one of you is Merle?” 

No one responds.

“Hmm.” He leans closer, inspecting each of them. “Oh, yeah, you, short one.”

He raises his now spear-like arm, rears back, and prepares to swing.

_ Well, _ Lup thinks to herself.  _ Fuck.  _

She begins to move towards them, intent on stopping Kravitz, but this crystal body is heavy and giant and new to her. With every step she takes, she feels herself lose balance, threatening to fall. Still, she has no other choice but to press on, albeit her pace is frustratingly slow. She’s not going to make it in time. Merle’s going to get hurt and it’ll be her fault.

And then Kravitz misses. Somehow, he misses. Lup silently thanks Istus for doing her a favor and promises that, once this is all over, she’ll attend a worship service at least once in her honor. 

Kravitz rises to his feet, retracting his arm. “Oh man, that was— that’s embarrassing. You’re lying perfectly still.” He scratches the back of his head, but since the golem he’s controlling is made entirely out of crystal, it just makes an ear-piercing grating sound. “I’m usually better than this. I apologize. I’ve got performance anxiety. You know how it is.”

Merle doesn’t respond. Or, rather, he doesn’t have the chance— before he can say anything, Taako yells out, “Hey thug, what’s your name? I’m about to tentacle your dick!” 

She knows that Kravitz is in the form of a rock monster right now and doesn’t really have a face, but she can see him wither and die inside, just a little bit. Lup loves it.

Taako continues to berate him, asking him for his name so he can credit him in porn, while Merle and Magnus giggle beside him. Kravitz, exasperated, runs a hand down his face, although in the material plane it just manifests as him awkwardly rubbing his arm against his head. Lup is having the time of her life. Finally, he says, “My name’s Kravitz.”

And that’s when Taako casts Evard’s Black Tentacles, ensnaring him in a writhing black mass of worm-like appendages. 

She hears Kravitz’s voice in her mind.  _ Help me? Please? _

Lup is suddenly very glad that he can’t hear her laughter through telepathy.  _ Sure thing, bud. Right after I make my way over there. _

She takes the tiniest, slowest step possible. Kravitz groans as loud as one can groan through thought.

When she turns her attention back towards the fight, she catches a glimpse of the robot from before racing towards Magnus. Before she can comprehend what’s happening, the robot picks Magnus up by the shoulders and he yells, “Launch me!”

Magnus, holding out his axe, swings like a ragdoll onto Kravitz and lands a solid hit, slicing down his face, producing a screeching sound as he scars the crystal. He lands with a dull thump onto the ground and yells in triumph. She’s glad to know that, despite everything that’s happened, he’s remained the same.

Kravitz struggles against his restraints. Beside him, however, Lup spots something out of the corner of her eye— the shards that had broken off of him before, now glowing white and shaking violently as if they were going to burst. 

She feels her heart drop into the pit of her stomach and takes off sprinting. 

She does her best not to trip over herself, to stay steady and focused while still maintaining a reasonable pace, but she doesn’t do it well. She leans forward, then backward, waving her arms in an effort to stay balanced, nearly toppling over herself in the process. Still, she’s not willing to stop. If she stops, one of them gets hit by the crystal. They’ll get hurt— or worse. 

She knows what Kravitz said. She knows that, if she fails to trick him into letting her stay, he’s going to force her to leave.

So Lup just won’t fail. She sure as hell isn’t leaving while Taako, Magnus, and Merle are around, and she’s not letting Kravitz hurt them, either. 

She reaches them just in time. Flailing, she watches the crystals surrounding Kravitz explode, the shards shooting towards the three of them. She dives in the way, absorbing the force of the explosion, falling face-first onto the ground below. Inside the void, she feels the space around her shake so violently that, for a moment, she feels her teeth vibrate. There’s a brief moment of stunned silence. Lup takes the time to gather herself and rise to her feet. Immediately, she’s met with cheers of “You’re hired! You’re hired! We have a new assistant!” and “Fuck yeah! Dental insurance!” along with Kravitz hissing,  _ What are you doing? _

_ I was coming to help,  _ she tells him.  _ I can’t control this body very well. I tripped. _

It’s not a good lie. She knows that. She’s too busy focusing on the ache that envelops her body to come up with anything more convincing.

He doesn’t respond. 

_ Krav?  _ she asks, but is met only with the deafening silence of the white void. 

She watches as he strains against the tentacles, eventually forcing them to snap, their remains sliding off him and dropping to the ground with a gross squishing noise. He brushes past her, causing her to stumble a little, and, once again, begins to raise a few more crystal shards up. 

There’s no denying it and there’s no worming her way out of it— if she keeps doing what she’s doing, he’s going to force her back into the Astral Plane.

Still, she can’t let him hurt them, especially not in the state they’re in now. Kravitz could easily pick them off if he wore them out for long enough. Lup has to wear him out first. She has to make certain he loses this fight. If he does take her off the mission— which she won’t be surprised if he does— she’ll find her way back.

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Taako casting a spell. Soon after, a binicorn steed manifests in front of him, much to the delight of Magnus and Merle. The robot deposits Magnus onto its back. His legs dangle over the sides, but he holds tightly to its neck. Together, they weave in between Kravitz’s legs. 

Kravitz pays it no mind. Instead, he aims the crystals beside him at Merle. “Sorry,” he says. “Work’s work.”

The shards soar towards Merle. Lup dashes in his direction, her hands outstretched as if she plans to cup him in her palm. The projectiles clash against her crystal exterior, again forcing her to stop in her tracks and rub at her arms, which feel as if they should be bleeding, although her skin shows no sign of bruises or scrapes. Yet another perk of being dead, she supposes: no physical marks of the damage she endures.

She might end up missing that, actually— the softening of her skin as the nicks on her fingers fade, the promise of no more burns from fire spells that went too far. The scarring, at least, would help her feel more normal. More alive. Although that ship has long since sailed.

He says nothing to her, nor does she try to explain herself. Instead, he only prepares more crystal for his next attack. As he does, she peers through the foggy glass that acts as a film over her vision and realizes, with a healthy level of disgust, that there’s bone sticking out at a sharp angle from one of the shards.

It’s a piece of Merle’s arm.

She recoils, swallowing the bile rising in her throat.  _ Kravitz? _ she asks.

There’s no answer.

_ Okay, listen, I know you’re really mad at me right now and I don’t blame you at all, it’s just… _

His voice enters her mind.  _ We’ll talk about this later, Lup. _

_ No, it’s, uh… _ She shudders.  _ There’s… some of Merle in that crystal. _

_ There’s what? _

_ Yeah, there’s, like, a chunk of arm in there. _

_ There can’t— I mean— It’s not— I broke this piece off of myself. _

There’s a brief moment of quiet between them before they both make noises of disgust at one another.

_ Where’s the rest of it? _ he asks, after a chorus of ‘ew’s. _ Get it off! _

_ I can’t get it off, Krav. I’d have to, like, punch your crystal bod into pieces and you’re angry enough with me as it is. _

_ I said we’ll talk about it later, Lup! I have someone else’s severed fucking arm inside of my body right now! _

_ Right, _ she says.  _ Well, um— _

She’s interrupted by the sight of Taako reaching his arm up and tapping the crystal with a fork. Light envelops it, and, when it clears, the crystal has transformed into a buttery bread roll. Taako clutches it in his hand, lifts the visor of his helmet, and stuffs it into his mouth.

Lup does not know whether to find this absolutely hilarious or fucking horrendous, but she’s leaning towards the former.

_ Oh my God, _ Kravitz thinks, but she’s not sure if he’s entirely aware he’s still communicating with her. _ I— I can’t— Oh my God. _

Lup breaks into hysterics, a laughing fit consuming her. She grabs blindly for something to hold onto while she clutches her stomach, but, seeing as how she’s in an empty void, there’s nothing there. She nearly trips over herself, which her crystal body reflects, stumbling across the laboratory floor.

Finally, she hears Kravitz speak to them. “What the fuck is  _ wrong  _ with the three of you?” He points an accusatory finger at them. “You guys are fucked up! That’s some— That’s some sick shit!” He presses his hands to the sides of his head. “Oh god, I’ve got to re-group. You all— I promise you the next time we meet, you’re coming with me. I’m taking you in. Lup, we’re going. We’re leaving. I can’t— I can’t be here anymore.” 

A portal opens behind him. She watches the crystal golem he’s in crumble apart before she notices how the void she’s in is beginning to shake. From outside, she hears the sound of glass cracking as the film over her vision begins to fracture, fissures spider-webbing across it. Suddenly, the rocks comprising her body spill onto the ground below and she falls several feet to the floor. Kravitz, however, has already disappeared through the portal.

The conversation they’re about to have isn’t going to be fun. Begrudgingly, she makes her way through the rift.

-

Lup finds herself in yet another laboratory room overtaken with pink crystal. From somewhere outside, Kravitz snaps his fingers. She blinks, and then she’s falling, the world around her expansive and unforgiving. She blinks again, and she’s back inside of her own body, standing in front of Kravitz, whose arms are crossed and whose face is stern.

“Why do you keep doing this?” he asks.

She motions behind her. “Just gonna— We’re just gonna skip over the whole arm-eating thing? Okay.”

He shudders. “I’d rather not talk about it now. I might vomit.”

“You want a nice crispy bread roll? Might make you feel better.”

“Lup, really, stop, I—” He clasps a hand over his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut, but his nausea appears to subside and he straightens, clasping both hands between his back. “Okay. Okay, back to the matter at hand. Right.”

“Uh-huh,” she says. “Listen, Kravitz, I’m—”

He holds up a hand to silence her. “No, Lup, don’t. Don’t try to bullshit me. Not anymore.”

She doesn’t reply. 

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this. It doesn’t make sense. I mean, you—” He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze set intently on the ground. “You’re not— It’s not because of your vendetta or whatever against me, I know that, I just—”

“What? Why couldn’t it be?”

He pauses. “What do you mean?”   


“Like, why isn’t it because of revenge? Sabotage is one of the top ten ways to get back at someone, and I’d say I’ve been pretty clear about how I plan to make things difficult for you.”

“Because, Lup, I told you. I told you that if you messed with this mission you were so eager to go on, you’d be kicked off, yet you did it anyway. Besides, at the field mission, you were begging to show off your fighting skills on those cultists, but now you’re blocking my attacks on these assholes. Why?” He throws his hands up. “Go on.  _ Why?” _

“I—” She grips her forearm, digging her nails into her skin. Lup isn’t sure what to tell him, so she offers a simple truth: “They’re just people.”

“How could you possibly know that, Lup? You don’t! Their death counts are so astronomically high that you and I both know there’s no way they could be _ ‘just people!’” _

Lup averts her gaze from his. “I just… I didn’t…” 

“You took damage for them. You absorbed my hits. And when I tossed that crystal at them, when I pretended I was Pan, you were so genuinely distressed. They’re not ‘just people’ to you, are they?”

She doesn’t say anything.

He offers a short laugh, but there’s no humor in it. Instead, it’s cold and cutting. “I thought maybe you wanted to come because of the reward involved. Or because it was fun, maybe. But now that I think about it, you were intent on coming with me the moment you saw the names on the page. You ran through the portal I made because you knew you had to be here. Did you do that because they’re ‘just people?’”

She swallows the lump in her throat. “I—”

“You keep throwing yourself in the line of fire for ‘just people.’ This is our job, Lup, and these are death criminals. One of them has died 57 times. But they’re ‘just people’, aren’t they?”

“I don’t—”

“You’re helping them. You’re stopping me from taking them in and you’re letting them get away. Are you doing that because they’re ‘just people?’ You’re protecting them and keeping them safe because they’re ‘just people?’ You’re refusing to let me do my— our— fucking job because they’re ‘just people?’”

“I only wanted to—”

“You wanna know what  _ I _ think, Lup?”

She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t need him to articulate it to know what he thinks.

“I think,” he hisses, each word more scathing than the last, “that you know them.”

Lup doesn’t meet his eyes.

After a long moment of quiet, she hears the sound of fabric tearing and looks up to see a rift in the canvas of reality next to where Kravitz is standing. He stares at her expectantly.

She sighs. “Kravitz, I really am—”

“No,” he says, cutting her off. “You lied to me. And you keep lying. You aren’t sorry.”

She takes a deep breath, crossing her arms. “Yeah.”

There’s another long silence between them before Lup speaks up again. “Maybe you don’t care. Maybe it’s just work for you. But I know you think that they’ve probably committed all kinds of atrocities, like all those other bounties with high retrieval rewards who have died countless times. That I must have, too, if I associate with them. I promise they haven’t. We haven’t. A lot has happened that I can’t explain, and, if things were different, we all really would be ‘just people.’” 

He doesn’t bother to look at her. Instead, after a lengthy pause, he tells her, “Just go.”

Lup hesitates, then nods. Without saying anything else, she moves towards the portal.

She crosses into it, and for a moment she can see the bland never ending hallway of apartments they reside in, but that moment doesn’t last long. Instead of finishing her short stride into the Astral Plane, she shuffles around, attempting to find the thin in-between. 

And then both of the rifts on either side of her stop showing anything and instead are a swirling, infinite mass that churns and churns and churns and never ceases, swimming with colors she’s never conceived of. Staring into it, confronting it, proves both sickening and intimidating, so she squeezes her eyes shut in an attempt to block it out, but it does nothing. Nausea still tugs at her stomach. She feels each side pulling on her, begging her to choose, but she stays firmly put in the in-between.

She feels herself begin to sink. With a start, she looks below her, only to see shadow beginning to devour her, her feet slowly vanishing into the unknown. She realizes she can’t move them, can’t struggle to step out, and as soon as she does, her ankles are gone, too. She panics, writhing and punching and trying to scream, although no sound accompanies it.

She takes a deep breath inward in an attempt to steady herself, which does very little, but does allow her to gather herself enough to stop fighting and instead look over her shoulder. The portals haven’t closed yet. The one leading back to the Miller’s laboratory is still open. She has to get there.

She twists her body in the direction of the rift, which proves difficult. Meanwhile, the shadow crawls up her legs until it’s reached her knees, effectively stunting the little mobility she has left. Still, she manages to swing herself backwards and grab hold of the bottom edge of the portal. Her fingers disappear beyond and she comes to the realization that she must be gripping the floor.

Her grasp continues to slip and she continues to sink. She strains to reach her other hand towards the ledge, struggling to keep hold as it is. The shadow creeps up to her thighs. She pulls, and pulls, and pulls, but to avail.

The shadow makes it to her waist. She reaches, farther and farther and farther and then, right as her fingers are about to slip, she grabs onto the ledge.

The shadow consumes her at an alarming pace, reaching up to her stomach. She lifts with every remaining bit of strength she has in her and finally, she feels herself begin to rise. The shadow below tugs at her, but she’s stronger. She reaches out a forearm, bracing herself against the floor, then another, pulling with every ounce of will she has until she feels the shadow retreat. 

The portal closes just as she makes her way out. It disappears too quickly for her to panic, and, as she rolls out, misses her by a thread. It takes some of her cloak with her, she realizes. Some of the hem was still caught behind her by the time she made her way through. Instead of torn fabric, however, there’s a clean cut where part of her cloak used to be. It looks almost as if it was never there in the first place.

She leans back and sighs. Her legs have gone numb. She pulls up a pant leg with the intention of massaging the pins and needles out, but startles when she sees what it looks like.

Black veins spider web across the mottled gray flesh of her legs. She crawls backwards across the craggy floor, as if that will help, but her panic proves unfounded. She watches as her skin begin to recover, returning to the same healthy shade of brown it was before, the gray subsiding and the inky blackness of her veins retreating. The numbness she felt is replaced by a sore, dull pain.

She takes a moment to steady herself before rising to her feet. Kravitz is gone, presumably on his way to take Taako, Magnus, and Merle in.

She has to get moving.

Lup makes her way towards the hatch leading out of the room and opens it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's why u never stand in between the portals, folks. mind the gap! otherwise you'll be devoured by a shadowy unknown force!  
> how are y'all doing? i hope you're well! i just got animal crossing and hamlet INSULTED MY DRESS. my cute dress that my good good friend rowan nbvee sent me!!!! he said something about cutesy dresses not being his thing so i sent him a sweetheart dress so he could know the Power of Cuteness and he wrote me back saying he already had it. HAMLET. YOU LIAR.  
> anyways!!!! thanks for reading y'all!! please leave a comment if you liked it!!!  
> next chapter: the end of the crystal kingdom arc!!!!!!!!!! it's likely to be somewhere around 11,000 words, so just a lil bit longer than the previous chapters have been. there's a lot to cover!!! buckle up folks!!!!!!! after that we'll be getting into ELEVENTH HOUR TERRITORY. get pumped!!  
> tumblr: nillial


	7. A Talk

Kravitz doesn’t need  _ Lup. _

If anything, Lup needs  _ him. _ She doesn’t know how to use her powers yet, she can’t portal her way out of a situation, she’s barely learned the basics of reaping— she couldn’t collect the souls of those bounties even if she wanted to. Which she doesn’t, evidently. He really should have seen that coming earlier. 

He did expect it, kind of. She was an old lich when he found her. A powerful one. Not many liches make it as long as she did without losing themselves. Liches like that always have a whole network of associates, all equally hungry for power, all willing to do anything it takes to achieve it. 

Still, he had been warming up to her, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it. And then she lied to him. She’s  _ been  _ lying to him. She told him over and over and over again that she never committed any of the atrocities that the bounties they collected on the field mission did, that all she did was read books and practice spells, that she never harmed anyone out of greed, yet she’s protecting death criminals with some of the highest payouts he’s ever seen. No one dies that often and has access to the necromantic rituals required to rise from the dead— without being a lich, might he add, as none of them are— and hasn’t hurt anybody in the process. Necromancy is all about equivalent exchange. For a lich, the price is the risk of turning into a monster and losing every aspect of themselves. And if someone craves immortality but doesn’t want to pay the price themselves, they’ll use someone else’s soul to do it. A life for a life. 

And Lup has been protecting the guy who died 57 times. 57 lives.

And what  _ for? _ Does she want power? A secret? A favor?

He presses the button to open up the hatch perhaps more aggressively than is warranted and the door slides open in response. He’s met with a room that’s only been partially crystalized, with pink crystal that seem to have been smoothed out encompassing the ceiling, but not the floor. Deactivated robots litter the ground, still and unmoving, the intricate human-like details a few of them possess making them reminiscent of corpses. In the middle of it all is a large stalactite jutting out from the ceiling. Encased inside is a robot, not unlike all of the others that are lying on the floor around it, its silhouette in the shape of a woman. As Kravitz inches closer, he notices that the robot’s features are nearly indistinguishable from that of a real human, save for the fuse planted in the torso. In one hand, the robot holds a metal disk etched with engravings Kravitz can’t quite make out. In the other is an ordinary stone.

The robot stares down at him with cold, lifeless eyes that somehow don’t seem dead. He suppresses a shiver. 

It was likely meant to hold the soul of Maureen Miller, who Lucas Miller conspired to free from the Astral Plane. However, he can only assume that that plan went awry, given the state of the lab and the fact that her machine body is currently inside of a crystal. He’s still not entirely sure where Maureen herself is, but he won’t leave without her. That is, if she’s still in the lab at all.

Below the robot is a pedestal holding a mirror made of sapphire, emanating an energy Kravitz is familiar with. He doesn’t need to look into it to know that it’s a looking glass into the Astral Plane. The question is: Where in the Astral Plane?

Hesitantly, he approaches it, looking over his shoulder with every few steps he takes.

Upon reaching the pedestal and peering inside, he’s met with the sight of white lights dancing above and beneath an ocean with no waves, framed against an island with a large stone fortress. The Eternal Stockade. 

Why is it looking into the Eternal Stockade?

Cautiously, he reaches out a finger and touches the surface.

He’s pulled through the mirror almost instantly, thrown against the Stockade’s gate and left sliding into the coarse, sandy ground below. He sits for a moment, cradling his head, and when he looks up he sees an oval-shaped window into the Material Plane in place of the mirror.

From outside of it, he hears footsteps approaching.

Kravitz scrambles to his feet, dusts himself off, and hides just beyond the mirror’s view. He summons his clipboard detailing the specific crimes of the bounties he’s following, which, due to their extensive death count, is multiple pages long. He prepares his Cockney accent by mumbling a few tongue-twisters under his breath until he’s confident in his abilities, then straightens his posture in anticipation of their arrival, ready to confront them. 

The footsteps suddenly cease and he catches a glimpse of the four figures standing outside of it— his bounties. He inches a little closer to catch their conversation, which consists mostly of yelling, sputtering, and panicked yelps. Upon straining his ears, he manages to discern a few fragments of sentences: “... could have helped…”, “... you’re a coward…”, “... Who is in the stalactite?”

It’s at that point that Kravitz decides to stride forward, his gaze cast down towards his clipboard, his free hand fixing his tie. “You guys really aren't that sharp, are you?” he asks. “Still having some trouble cracking this nut?”

One of them begins to explain something about “team effort” but Kravitz doesn’t listen. He does, however, glance up to get a clear view of their faces, if only out of curiosity. The one speaking is a large human man sporting an axe strapped to his back. He assumes him to be Magnus, given he matches the description on his profile. Although most of him is covered by the odd suit they’re all wearing— for protection from the crystal, he assumes— he can see he’s collected a few scars. Off in the background behind him is Lucas Miller, cowering in his own suit, which, for whatever reason, he’s slipped a lab coat over. Standing next to Magnus is a dwarf with a rather accomplished beard: Merle. The sleeve of his suit has obviously been stitched back together and fitted with a new glove that doesn’t match the other. It occurs to him that this is the bounty he tried to crystalize. His stomach churns thinking about both the impromptu amputation and the subsequent transmutation and consumption of his arm. Still, it seems they’ve managed to provide him with a prosthetic. Peering closely, he thinks he sees something almost like tree bark between the gaps of the sleeve’s stitches.

His eyes pass over to the last bounty in line and he feels himself freeze.

There stands an elf man who has pulled a pointy wizard hat over the top of his helmet. He slouches forward, his arms crossed, looking bored. Yet, none of that is what catches Kravitz’s attention. It’s his  _ face  _ that matters.

He looks like Lup. The resemblance is undeniable. His ears are the same, his mouth is the same, his nose and the inhumanly golden freckles that dot it are the same, his eyes, his face shape, the way he carries himself— it’s all the same. He tilts his head, rapping his fingers against his forearm, waiting for Kravitz to say something. It’s almost like he’s taunting him. He can’t say anything, not now, not when he feels as if someone’s delivered a swift kick to his gut and stolen his voice from him in the process. 

He breaks into a sideways smile as if he’s sharing a joke with himself and, God, they even have the same gap between their teeth. “Do I have something on my face?” he asks, in the same sarcastic tone Lup uses, in the same intonation, in the same unidentifiable accent. 

_ “You’re her brother,”  _ he wants to say.  _ “This is why she was protecting you,” _ he wants to say.  _ “I think I might be an asshole,” _ he wants to say. 

Instead, he sputters, “I— uh— By order of the Raven Queen, you’re—” He chokes down the lump in his throat. “Oh, fuck it. She’s in the Astral Plane. I can take you to her if you step through the mirror, but you  _ all  _ have some explaining to do.”

All three of them share a look of confusion. Magnus asks, “Who’s in the Astral Plane?”

“You know,” he says, turning to address Lup’s brother. It must be Taako. He’s the only one left that he’s after. “Your sister.”

He stares at him blankly. “What?”

“Yeah, your sister,” Kravitz continues. “She’s been helping you guys out this whole time. I’d probably have collected your souls already if not for her.” He pauses. “She  _ is  _ your sister, right?”

There’s a long silence, and then he turns to the rest of the group and asks, “Is this staticky for anyone else? All I’m getting is static.” He looks back at him. “All I’m getting from you is static, my guy. You wanna tell me that again but explain it like you’re talking to a five year old?” 

Kravitz furrows his brow. “What are you talking about?”

“What are  _ you  _ talking about?” asks Merle.

Kravitz takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he tells them. “I think I understand. Of course you don’t want to go to the Astral Plane with the Grim Reaper. You’re a bunch of death criminals. You probably think we’re gonna pop on in there and I’m gonna hand you over to the Raven Queen, right?”   


All three of them keep their gaze steadfastly ahead of them, all of their eyes widening.

“Right,” he continues. “Well, rest assured, I’m not. You don’t have to be afraid. Which, I know I must be hard to trust, what with the several attempts on your lives— multiple lives, might I add, but we’ll get to that later— but Lup is like me. I don’t know if she’s told you, mostly because I don’t know if she’s been able to tell you, but she’s a reaper, too.” 

They only stare, silent, fear evident on their faces. 

“Really, you don’t have to be afraid of me,” he tells them. “I know how fake that sounds, I do, but Lup actually is there and I’m willing to take you all to her. I made her go back to the Astral Plane after she beat my ass in that last fight, which, in case you’re all wondering, she was the other golem, and she’s probably ruining my apartment right now, so if you’d like to see her… just say the word.”

They remain silent and afraid. It’s only then that Kravitz notices they’re not looking  _ at  _ him. They’re looking  _ past  _ him.

Kravitz mutters a “What?” and turns around.

And then there’s silver, and then there’s darkness, and then there’s nothing at all.

-

Lup doesn’t need _ Kravitz. _

She never needed him. If anything, he was in her way. In fact, she was actively trying to leave him ever since she was forced into a job in the Astral Plane. She’s tried to escape. She wants to escape. Finally,  _ finally,  _ she’s escaped.

So why doesn’t she feel free?

Lup runs a hand along the craggy wall, the jagged dips and points of the crystal scraping her palm. She misses everyone so much. She’d give anything to see them, laugh with them, speak to them as if they were old friends and not the strangers they’ve become, but they don’t remember her. They probably don't trust her. To them, she’s a reaper out to collect their souls, likely willing to use all means of deceit to do so. Not a friend. Not a teammate. Not a sister. 

And Kravitz— Fuck.

He doesn’t understand. He thinks she’s abetting horrible, awful death criminals who do nothing but spread pain and violence. He probably thinks she’s one, too. He’s been thinking that the whole time, really, but she brushed it off, fought back with jokes, and, in the process, cultivated a sort of begrudging mild friendship. 

She couldn’t  _ not  _ protect them. They’re her family. She’s known Kravitz for a few weeks and he’s angry because she kept it a secret that she knew them, but, really, how would that conversation go? _ Hey, Kravitz, you know those people you never asked about and who I didn’t know were listed as bounties until, like, a couple hours ago? The ones who died dozens of times over? One of them is my twin brother and I lived with the others for a century while outrunning a plane-devouring apocalypse. Wild, huh? Glad to get that off my chest. Well, back to business as usual.  _

She drags a hand down her face. He doesn’t know. There’s no way he  _ could  _ know. He probably just thinks she’s been lying to save her own ass.

Lup takes a long, deep breath to steady herself. She shouldn’t be thinking about this right now. She should be finding Taako, Magnus, and Merle. 

She presses onward, ignoring the aching that still grips her legs. She’s not sure what she’s doing. She’s not sure where to go. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if she runs into Kravitz. All she knows is that she has to get to her family before Kravitz does. 

She opens a hatch and crosses into yet another room. She’s wandering around aimlessly, if she’s being honest with herself, but she doesn’t know what else to do. 

Lup halts in her tracks and buries her head in her hands. She’s getting nowhere. 

She slides to the floor and sits for a moment. Probably not her best course of action, all things considered— she needs to be fast and efficient and sitting on the ground is not fast nor efficient. Still, neither is moving from room to room with no direction and relying on luck to lead your way. She needs an alternative. How does she find the three of them? 

They fought in the lobby in which they were paralyzed, and then, once it was over with, Kravitz teleported her _ somewhere. _ As for the three of them, there was an elevator going in and out of the lobby that Lucas took. Maybe they could have called it and gone after him. Although Lup isn’t quite sure whether he went down or up. Another variable Lup would have to figure out, but no problem. 

She thinks she saw a couple doors, too. They could have left through those. Or were there three doors? Or one? She’ll figure it out when she gets there, she supposes, and once she finds out what exit they’ve left through, she can trace their steps to wherever they are now.

If she can find her way there, that is. She was teleported away. She’s not sure how to get back to the lobby at all.

Lup runs her fingers through her hair and they tangle in knots she didn’t know were there. This is useless. She’s not going to get anywhere without a real, actual lead on where they are. 

Kravitz used some sort of sense that reapers inherently have that allows them to seek out bounties. Lup wonders if she’d be able to use her own reaper senses to find the three of them. She was able to figure out a new power without the help of Kravitz. She can do it again. No problem.

Except tracking down death criminals using a sixth sense she doesn’t know how to utilize  _ might  _ be a little more difficult than going one step further with an ability she’d already been taught to use. 

Whatever. She can do it. 

Lup tries to mimic Kravitz— the eyes squeezing shut, the eerie stillness that follows, the statuesque posture. None of it does anything besides make her feel like a total idiot. 

What does he do? Focusing, probably, but on what? On who? Does she use her other senses in conjunction with the reaper sense? Does she  _ smell  _ the bounties? What does a bounty smell like? 

Maybe she does need Kravitz. Just a little. Only for this one thing. 

Still, that’s out of the question now. She can’t go back to the Astral Plane anymore. There’s no way to get there without the specific teleportation magic that allows reapers in and out, which only Kravitz has, so she’s going to have to convince her friends to let her hitch a ride back up to the moon base. And then she can revel in her successful jailbreak and say goodbye to Kravitz forever. Which is what she wanted. What she _ wants. _

Lup needs to concentrate on finding the half of her family that’s in this death maze of a laboratory. 

She purses her lips thin, clamping her eyelids shut. She can do this. She can do this. She can do this.

Lup asks herself who she’s looking for and the answer comes to her immediately. Merle, who is compassionate and kind and loving and devoted, even if he doesn’t know it yet. Magnus, who may have lost all memory but who never forgot his caring nature. Taako. 

What can she say about Taako?

Taako’s changed and shifted and split into a different version of himself— the same, but not, a Taako slightly crooked— and he’s lost half of his past. Just like that, Lup vanished from his memories and he was none the wiser. He started anew and he grew and he lived and he’s just fine without her, but she’s not fine without him. She misses him and she loves him and she just wants him back, but he’s  _ afraid  _ of her. Lup hadn’t realized one of her worst fears until it manifested right in front of her. Taako, who was once terrified at the prospect of losing her, now terrified of her mere presence. 

She needs to get moving. She needs for this reaper sense bullshit to work. She has to find them, she has to get to the moon base, and she has to make them remember. 

Lup attempts to shut out everything else around her. She silences the distant humming of machinery, the breeze ringing through the vents, the worries swarming her mind, and she searches. She focuses on the people she’s trying to find and only them. She focuses on where they could be. Her desire to know where they are now. 

Through the darkness of her shut eyelids, she sees a bright red outline begin to form. There’s the unmistakable silhouette of Magnus, then Merle, then Taako, all settling into one shape as the lines below them criss cross into tiles and then walls and then furniture. And then, after almost everything seems to have settled, yet another silhouette forms against those of Taako, Magnus, and Merle, towering over them. 

And then it all disappears. Lup’s eyes automatically shoot open. There’s a faint crimson glow surrounding the hatch door to her left and she feels its pull gently guiding her towards her goal.

Lup sets off.

-

Taako doesn’t like how everything in this laboratory is out to kill him.

In nearly every room they enter, there’s something that wants him dead, whether it be robots, or ghosts, or ghost robots, or crystal golems, or tardigrades, or the (admittedly rather good-looking) Grim Reaper who was almost definitely trying to trick them into popping into the Astral Plane and subsequently getting murdered. Although she didn’t attack them, the woman who stole his face probably ranks among them. He doesn’t know what else she’d want with him, except, perhaps, to steal his soul. 

And now there’s this giant amalgam of dead people that wants to murder him. Legion— yet another name on the extensive list of People and Things That Have Tried To Kill Taako On This Joyous Candlenights. 

If it were up to him, he would be swimming in money, but The Director (or Lucretia, although Taako didn’t know she  _ had  _ a first name) is a bit stingy with the Bureau’s gold. Nevermind the cash bonus they got tonight. He better get a serious pay raise for putting up with all of this shit. 

Legion’s skeletal form towers above Taako and the rest of the team, oozing with a murky silver plasma that seems to comprise their entire being. In it, there’s the faint shadow of faces, barely discernible and twisting around in what he can only describe as agony, yet still entirely expressionless. Taako feels himself grimace. Fuckin’ creepy. 

Legion, in overlapping voices speaking simultaneously, asks them to tear down the barriers between the living and dead. Magnus objects, then falters. Merle calls for a huddle. 

“Listen, listen,” Merle tells them, his voice hushed. “You know, we've probably put a whole bunch of those people in there.”

Magnus nods, scratching the back of his neck. “Like, Phandalin at least, yeah, yeah. Tom Bodett…” 

Merle replies by nodding in turn. “We're not gonna get good treatment at the hands of a bunch of dead people that we offed.”

Taako agrees. They’ve collectively killed so many people that he’d be surprised if there  _ wasn’t  _ at least one person who died by their hands. Thus, they come to the conclusion that, since a lot of the souls stuffed inside of Legion probably died because of them, it’d be best to decline the offer lest Legion recognize them. 

When they tell Legion that they’d rather part ways, they don’t take it well. Their entire stature seems to tense and the silver plasma inside of them begins to swirl more violently than before, the faces inside stretched thin, their mouths opened in an inaudible scream.

“You will join us one way or another,” they say, a cacophony of voices echoing off the walls.

Taako has decided that today can not get any worse. 

And then he hears a hatch door squeak open.

-

Lup is still skidding to a halt by the time she presses the button to open the hatch.

It slides open painfully slowly, emanating a horrible noise akin to nails on a chalkboard, but she dashes through it as soon as it's wide enough to allow her through. When she crosses into the room, she’s met with a gigantic skeleton monster dripping with gray sludge, a nerd in a lab coat, a small dragonborn woman, a pretty sick looking robot, and, of course, Taako, Magnus, and Merle. 

They just stare at one another. She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know if anything she says would matter. 

Taako steps back, raises a finger, and points. “It’s the lady who stole my face!”

Magnus leaps out in front of him. “Give back Taako’s face, you thief!”

She swallows the lump in her throat. Her voice shaking with nervousness, she says, “I’m not gonna hurt you, I swear, I just—” 

“Just wanted to steal  _ our  _ faces?” Magnus asks.

She gestures toward the monster looming over them. “I think you have more pressing matters to attend to right now.”

Magnus narrows his eyes. “Is that an admittance of guilt?”

“No, I—” She sighs. How can someone change so much and so little at the same time? “I wanna help. I get why you wouldn’t trust me, I do, but I trust you guys.”

“That makes no fuckin’ sense,” Taako calls out from behind Magnus. 

Magnus fixes his stance and lifts his axe higher. “How do we know you’re not like the other guy?”

She hesitates. “Other guy?”

“The one who kept trying to make us go to the Astral Plane with him.”

Funny way of saying ‘tried to kill us’, in Lup’s opinion, but to each his own. “Listen, the other guy is a dick, deffo, but—”

_ “And _ she stole my charming colloquialisms!” Taako shouts. 

“Is his face not  _ enough?” _ asks Magnus, jabbing his axe in her direction.

“I’m not—” She lifts her hands in front of her in an effort to let them know she’s no threat, but ultimately lets them drop at her sides and pleads, “Let me help. Please.”

Taako and Magnus share a look with one another.

Taako shrugs. “It’d be nice not to get killed.” 

Lup breathes a sigh of relief and sprints towards them, already feeling magic gather at fingertips. 

Merle pats her arm. “I was rooting for you that whole time. I know I said nothing in your defense and just stood here, but I was rooting for you.”

Lup can’t help but smile. “Thanks, my guy.”

He offers her a wink that looks more like an eye twitch.

The monster crosses their arms, letting silver goo drip onto the floor below.  _ “Are you done deliberating?”  _ they ask, their voices overlapping. 

“Yeah,” replies Magnus. “Thanks for waiting, Legion. You’re very kind.”

_ “No problem. Let me just, uh…”  _ They position themself into a fighting stance. _ “Okay. Prepare to die.”  _

Legion slam their fists into the ground, sending a ripple throughout the room, causing Lup to stagger. From a mirror in the corner of the room, dozens of balls of gray light float out of the mirror and dart towards the deactivated robots littering the room. They rise, one by one, their limbs creaking as chunks of loose metal plates break off of their exterior and clatter to the floor. They stalk towards their group, stare unflinching, movements perfect and precise.

The dragonborn woman vaults over the shoulders of the team’s robot and quickly stabs two of the robots with daggers. They spark and shudder before collapsing to the ground. She ducks, and then the robot takes out an arm fitted with a gun and shoots at the advancing decidedly evil robots, effectively taking out three of them. Pretty badass, if you ask Lup.

Legion extends an arm and swipes towards Magnus. Lup lowers herself closer to the ground and quickly rolls in front of him, then lifts her palm and shoots a fireball. It hits their forearm and they stagger back, clutching their wound.

“Uh,” Magnus says. “Thank you.”

She shoots him a grin. “I was aiming for their face.”

While they’re distracted, Merle casts a spell.

And it summons Della Reese, wielding a gleaming silver sword and shield.

Lup decides she loves everything.

As soon as he’s done casting, however, the robots all advance on them. One has a laser blaster attached to its arm, which it raises and fires, successfully hitting her and everyone else. She sucks in a breath upon feeling the twinge of a burn on her arm, which she quickly presses a hand to. When she shifts her palm away to reveal the skin underneath, there is, of course, no mark, although she still feels the pain seeping through her shoulder.

“Lucas!” Magnus shouts. The nerd in the lab coat swivels around in response. “If I smash the mirror thing, will it go away?”

The nerd— Lucas— wipes off some sweat on his forehead. “It— it _ should— _ I mean, the mirror has to be perfect in order for it to maintain a connection with our—”

“Got it!” Magnus interrupts. 

He dashes towards the mirror, lifts his axe, and brings it down with a firm strike. The mirror itself, which is encased in Legion’s weird goo, stays unscathed, but Legion screams in agony. He swings two more times, and, in response, they wince in pain. Lup decides to add to his attack by hitting them with a Scorching Ray.

The robot and the dragonborn woman take advantage of Legion’s momentary inability to attack. The dragonborn climbs atop the robot’s shoulders, hands on her daggers, and the robot launches her at the oncoming horde of bots. She spins midair, her outstretched hands wielding her knives, slicing at any robots unfortunate enough to be near. When she comes to a skidding halt on the other side, seven of the robots lay twitching on the floor, leaving only three. Lup wants to be friends with these people.

A few souls come crawling out from the mirror behind Legion, which they promptly absorb. They almost seem to vitalize upon gaining a few more dead folks.

“Oh my God,” she says. “They get their powers from vore.”

Merle holds up a bible— an Extreme Teen Bible, no less, complete with an eye-searing color palette and a stock image of a sixteen year old on a skateboard— and mutters something under his breath. Legion pauses for a moment, and then some of the goo comprising them falls to the floor with a splat. Some of the Legion gunk coating the mirror slides away, leaving an open spot.

Legion staggers backwards into Della Reese’s territory. She attacks them with unimaginable speed and precision, slicing them so quickly that Lup’s eyes can’t follow all of her sword's movements. They let out a wail of pain that shakes the entire room. Lup reaches blindly for something to hold onto but comes up with nothing, nearly tripping instead.

The robots all line up and prepare to fire, aiming at Lucas. As she hears the hum of their lasers charging, she darts in front of him and casts Fire Wall around the two of them. A barrier of flame rises in front of her, emanating an intense heat. Somewhere beyond the roar of the fire, she hears the sound of lasers being shot, but they’re unable to penetrate her spell. 

“Wow,” says Lucas from behind her, his voice riddled with congestion. “Thanks.”

She glances over her shoulder and offers him a smile. “No prob,” she replies. “Please take an allergy pill, though.”

Satisfied, she drops the spell. Almost immediately, Legion takes advantage.

They reach out a hand and swipe at the two of them, sweeping them across the room. Lup skids across the floor, rolling over herself until she slams hard into a crystalized wall, the jagged edges digging into her skin. As soon as she’s stopped, pain settles and spreads throughout her body. 

Shakily, she lifts her head and turns toward Lucas, who lays sprawled out on the floor beside her, unmoving. 

_ Shit. _

She crawls toward him, but collapses soon after she’s made the first few strides. She’s hurt— if she’s not careful, she’ll be sent back to the Astral Plane. 

And then she hears the sound of glass cracking. She strains to see the source of the noise and finds that the stalactite in the center of the room is breaking, the figure inside twitching and squirming and kicking. Soon, it shatters and the figure tumbles to the ground, rising to reveal a sleek humanoid robot who shouts, _ “Get the hell away from my son!” _

Magnus approaches her, yelling over the chaos. “Maureen, give me the stone!”

There’s some deliberation that she can’t quite make out. The robot, who she assumes is Maureen, clutches a smooth rock close to her side. The Philosopher’s Stone, no doubt. Taako’s relic. At some point during the argument, Magnus points a finger in Lup’s direction. Maureen hesitates, then tosses it to him and takes off.

She slides to her knees in front of Lucas’s still body and slams her palms against the ground until the plating breaks off and exposes her wiring. She rubs her hands together until there’s a spark, then rolls him over and presses them to his chest. He jolts before slumping to the floor. 

Maureen brings her hands to her head, clearly panicked, and repeats the process. The same happens.

“No,” she whispers under her breath, “no, no, I— he—”

Lup reaches a shaky hand towards her and sets it on the ground in front of her. “Hey,” she croaks, “you can do it.”

Maureen hesitates. Finally, she brings her hands to his chest once more. He jolts, but this time he gasps.

Lucas spends a moment catching his breath before asking, his voice weak and trembling, “Mom?”

She holds him against her and buries her face in his shoulder. He, in turn, lifts his arms and wraps them around her.

Lup grins. She shifts her gaze to Magnus and the Philosopher’s Stone. It seems he’s successfully contained it inside of his glove. Good. She wouldn’t know what to do if one of them were to succumb to a relic’s thrall.

And then he takes out a fork, taps it, and transforms the glove the stone is wrapped in into a pastry. He swallows it in a single bite.

She wishes she could laugh. All she can manage are breathless wheezes with a few coughs in between and even that hurts. Still, she tries. Maureen and Lucas both shoot her odd looks.

Magnus, as soon as he’s finished eating, smashes the mirror with a single blow. Legion screeches in pain. In turn, the mirror falls on top of him, pinning him to the ground. 

Meanwhile, Merle is kneeling on the ground with his arms towards the sky. She can see his mouth moving, but she’s too far away to hear anything. Lup isn’t sure what he’s trying to do until golden leaves begin to sprout from his new wooden arm, growing exponentially. He points a finger gun at Legion. They fold in on themself, screaming, and then they’re gone.

“Damn,” she says to no one in particular.

She feels herself fading in and out of consciousness. Her vision falters, shifting and blurring, spots dancing across her eyes. She’s going to be sent back to the Astral Plane soon and there’s nothing she can do about it except let it happen. As her sight fades and her ears begin to ring, she awaits her inevitable departure. This was never going to work.

She wishes she could have spent more time with them. Spoken to them. Stayed with them, if only for a little while. Who knows if she’ll still have a position as a reaper when she gets back. Maybe Kravitz has already snitched on her and is in the process of preparing her cell in the Eternal Stockade.

And then she feels her pain subside. Gasping, she sits upright and is met with Merle standing above her. 

“Healing spell,” he tells her. 

Lup nods for lack of a better response. “Thanks.”

“Welcome,” he says, again attempting to wink at her with little success.

Maureen speaks up from her spot on the floor. “Um, would you mind healing my son?”

Merle rolls his eyes.  _ “Spell slots,” _ he groans before sitting down next to Lucas and removing a suture kit from his pocket, a process which requires no spell slots at all.

Lup rises to her feet, however unsteadily. As soon as she begins to leave, however, Maureen stands and rests an arm on her shoulder. “Thank you,” she says, “for helping.”

“Ah, it’s cool,” she replies. Out of the corner of her eye, Lup catches Merle sewing the shape of a dick into Lucas’s skin. It occurs to her that this was the same guy who paralyzed them in the other room. The same guy she made a commitment to hate. Fucking damn it.

As soon as Maureen turns away, Lup gives him a little kick. Merle gives her an approving thumbs up.

Satisfied, she makes her way towards Magnus and Taako, who are in the middle of bidding goodbye to whoever they’re speaking to on the Stone of Farspeech. By the time she approaches, they’ve hung up. 

She’s elated to see them, to be near them again, not stuck in an umbrella or a crystal or anything else. She wants to reach out and pull all three of them into a group hug. She wants to talk with them about what’s happened while she’s been gone. She wants to pull pranks with Magnus and cheat at a card game with Merle and wrap her arms around Taako and never, ever let go. But she can’t. She won’t. 

“So,” says Magnus, breaking the silence. “Thanks for the assist.”

He’s still pinned under the mirror. She gives him a little nudge with her shoe. “Happy to help.”   


There’s another extended pause before Taako says, “So are we just ignoring that this stranger looks and talks like me, or…”

There’s a lot of things she wants to say. _ Taako, I’m your twin sister. Taako, I miss you more than you could know. Taako, I know you don’t remember me, but I love you.  _

Instead, she just tells him, “I’ll tell you later, okay? There’s a lot that needs explained.”

“Tell—” He lets out a long, drawn out sigh. “Why can’t you just tell me now?”

This is her chance. This is when she tries to hitch a ride to the moon base. This is her way out. This is how she’ll end this misery. All she has to do is sell it.    
And Kravitz— Well. She doesn’t know what to do about Kravitz.

She wishes she could say goodbye, at least, but he’d just drag her back to the Astral Plane. She wonders if they’ve ever had a runaway reaper before. She wonders if anyone ever went looking for them.

She steadies her nervous breathing and opens her mouth to ask, “I was thinking that maybe you guys could—”

She’s interrupted by the sound of fabric tearing and turns her head to see Kravitz stepping through a portal.

_ Well,  _ she thinks.  _ There goes that plan. _

He approaches them, nodding at Magnus and Taako and stopping in front of Lup. He looks somewhat shocked. Lup doesn’t blame him. She  _ did  _ crawl out of a portal. “Uh. Hey?”

Lup rocks back on her feet. “... Hi.”

There’s an awkward silence, and then Kravitz asks, “How are you— what— how?”

She sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Long story.”

“Wait,” Magnus interjects, pointing a finger at Kravtiz. “You’re not dead?”

Kravitz shifts his gaze to look at him. “No, I’m not dead.” He pauses. “Well— It’s complicated. I’m fine, I mean. But you three aren’t.”

She groans internally. Then she groans externally.

Kravitz ignores her, instead summoning his book. “Taako, you’ve died 8 times without visiting the Astral Plane. Magnus Burnsides, you’ve died 19 times. Merle, you’ve died…” Lup sees him grit his teeth, but he quickly regains his composure. “57 times. You’ve died 57 times. You’ve died 57 times and your soul is worth _ so much _ money, Merle.”

Merle, who’s just finishing up his dick-shaped stitches, beams. “You hear that, boys? I’m  _ expensive.” _

Taako buries his head in his hands.  _ “God.” _

“The point is—” continues Kravitz, halting when his eyes land on the robot from before. “Oh. Right. Almost forgot.”

He glances down at the book. It flips a couple pages and then he reads, “Noelle Redcheek, you died one time, checked into the Astral Plane, and have been missing for a few months now.” 

“Oh,” says Noelle. “Oh, I… I didn’t mean to, I just…”

He waves a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, I  _ am  _ going to have to take both you and Maureen in, but—”

“You’re taking in the person who helped save your ass from  _ Legion?” _ asks Magnus, gesturing towards Noelle. 

“She’s a ghost,” says Kravitz. “I take in ghosts.”

“And where does Lucas fit into all of this? He’s the one who took her from the Astral Plane. Does he just get off scot-free?”

“Well, I mean, I think his days of necromancy are behind him—”

“This is all bullshit!”

“Okay, okay, hold on.” Kravitz lifts his hands in front of him. “Listen. Given… recent developments, I’m willing to clear your bounties. All of those deaths won’t mean a thing. All three of you will get a fresh start.”

Magnus pauses. “And Noelle?”

“I— Noelle’s going to have to come with me, I made this clear—”

Magnus cuts him off. “What if we set up a time limit?”

“Like…” Kravitz sighs. “Like what? Like, we set an egg timer and then I reap her soul, or…”

“Twenty years.”

“Hm. No.”

“Fair.”

“How’s this: If you win a game against me, the three of you will no longer be considered bounties and I’ll reap Noelle at a later date. Sound good?” Kravitz kneels to level himself with Magnus, who is still under the mirror, and reaches out a hand for him to shake.

Magnus hesitates, but takes it.

“Hey, man, look at it this way,” says Taako. “If we get to live, I can guarantee an influx of souls for you.”

“That’s not— I prefer you didn’t do that, actually. I’d prefer it if you  _ didn’t  _ murder people.”

He clicks his tongue. “Mm, it’s a little too late for that, my man.”

Before anyone else can interject, Kravitz asks, “Right, so what are we playing, Magnus? Scrabble? Uno? Bridge? I’m really good at bridge.” He pauses. “I should not have told you that. Now you’re not going to choose bridge. Damn it.”

Magnus raps his fingers on the mirror on top of him. “How about a simple high card draw?” 

He makes a face. “Boring, but fine. High card draw it is.”

Kravitz waves his hand and the game’s setup appears in the blink of an eye. In lieu of a table, there’s a deck of cards on the mirror’s surface and a single stool. The pair of hands that dealt cards in the last game Lup witnessed pop back into existence and begin shuffling the card deck. He sits himself down on the seat he’s summoned for himself while Magnus lays on the floor and waits for the dealer to finish.

Finally, the dealer slides Kravitz his cards, then Magnus. From Lup’s position, she can see Magnus’s hand. It’s not great. She casually strolls to the other side of the mirror and successfully peeks at Kravitz’s cards. It doesn’t take long for her to see that he has the winning hand.

Lup is planning her attack and subsequent escape for fighting Kravitz in order to get her friends out of this hellhole when she spies Magnus rustling around in his pockets. He brings his cards closer to him while he attempts to discreetly switch some of his worse cards with better ones, all while Kravitz stares intently at his own hand. 

She drifts towards Kravitz’s side once again. He lowers his cards face down on the mirror’s surface, then bumps his knee against it. His cards scatter across the ground. 

“Sorry,” he says, leaning down to gather them. “Sorry.”

While picking them up off the floor, she notices his palm glow as he summons a new card— a much worse one than the one he’s reaching for. He shoves the good card up his sleeve, instead opting for the bad one, and reorganizes his hand.

Once he’s settled, he clears his throat and asks, “Well?”

Magnus lays his cards in front of him. Kravitz groans as soon as he sees them.

“Ugh,” he whines, throwing his own cards down. “Ugh, you got me. You win. Best two out of three?”

“No, I think I’m good,” Magnus replies, grinning. He reaches over to Merle for a high five, who misses three times. 

He stands from his stool, which dissipates into thin air the moment he rises. The dealer and the cards, too, are gone, save for Magnus’s trick cards, which he quickly stuffs back into his pocket. If Kravitz notices, he ignores it.

“Alright, no more necromancy, you guys. The rules of nature are there for a reason, so let’s stop running afoul of them, hm?” He wills his scythe into his grip and slices, creating a swirling rift. “Well, it’s been fun, but we have to go. Maureen?”

An uncomfortable silence permeates the room as they all turn to stare at Maureen. Lucas’s heartbreak is evident on his face. He looks around frantically, as if searching for a solution that isn’t going to manifest. Finally, he shifts his gaze to her. “Mom, no— I— but—”

“Lucas, I’m sorry, but I can’t stay.” She rests a hand on his shoulder. He deflates under it. She takes a deep, shaky breath before continuing. “When I entered the cosmoscope, I saw something I should not have seen. And it killed me. It destroyed my mind, and I lost myself, and my willpower was taken from me, and the only way I was able to recover and fight off the spirits that inhabited me in that crystal stalactite was to partition what I saw in the cosmoscope to this conduit's internal memory, but as long as I'm here, I'm in danger of remembering, and I—” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I can't lose control like that again. I  _ won’t.” _

Lucas remains silent. She gives him a tight hug.

When she pulls herself away from him, she addresses Taako, Magnus, and Merle. “Please, whatever punishments you require for Lucas, I understand, but please promise me…” She looks back at Lucas. “Just keep him safe. Please.”

Magnus reluctantly nods.

She approaches Lucas once again, kneeling in front of him. “I promise it’s not so bad over there. As dour as it sounds, we’ll meet each other again someday.”

She leans in close and whispers something in his ear, then plants a kiss on his forehead. The whirring of her machinery stops and a light escapes her eerily human robotic body, floating towards Kravitz. 

“Alright, Maureen,” he says. “Ready to go?”

He’s about to guide her through the rift when Magnus shouts after him. “Kravitz!”   


He turns back. “Yeah?”

Magnus glances at his now gloveless hand. For the first time, she notices a ring.

“Tell Julia I said I love her,” he tells him.

_ Julia? _

“Lots of Julias over there.” Magnus opens his mouth, presumably to give a detailed description, but Kravitz stops him. “No, I’m kidding. I know who you’re talking about. Lup?”

Lup looks towards him, then back at her family. She wants to tell them everything. She wants to tell them how much she missed them, wants to know what happened while she was gone, wants to talk, to laugh, to know who Julia is. She wants to hug them all, to hold them in her embrace and never let go again. To beg them to stay. 

She watches Taako stare, waiting for her departure. He seems so unaffected. They used to hate being apart and now he’s just letting her walk into another plane with no assurance of seeing her again. No protest, no passive aggressive comments, no feigned joy nor feigned indifference. He doesn’t care. He has no reason to.

She thinks the apathy is the worst part. A part of Lup wishes she had stayed invisible. At least that way she could pretend he still cares. 

“Lup?” repeats Kravitz. There’s a softness in his tone that she hadn’t expected from him.

Lup swallows her concern and her affection and the pain gnawing at her chest.

_ I miss you,  _ she wants to say.  _ I miss you when you’re right in front of me, and I don’t think that will ever change. I miss you even if you can’t understand why. I miss you too much and too deeply to bear and I don’t miss you enough at the same time. I thought I cherished you, thought I wouldn’t regret the moments I chose not to spend with you, thought I hadn’t taken your company for granted. I was wrong. _

More words left unsaid. More thoughts she can’t speak aloud. More aching for her heart. She’s tired of aching.

“I’ll see you guys,” she says instead, working past the urge to run up and hug them, to cry into Taako’s shoulder, to love them and let them know. _ I’ll see you guys.  _ That’s all she’s able to say.  _ I’ll see you guys.  _ She’s bursting at the seams with all the things she wants to tell them.  _ I’ll see you guys. _ She doesn’t know when she’ll see them, truthfully. She doesn’t know  _ if  _ she’ll see them. She wishes they cared.

Lup, overcoming her hesitation, follows Kravitz through the rift and back to the Astral Plane.

-

Kravitz tells her that he needs to take Maureen in for processing. Or, at least, that what she thinks he tells her— every word he says is distant and faded and Lup doesn’t have the capacity to think through it at the moment. She needs some time to herself now that the danger has passed. For now, that is— there’s always another threat lurking in the shadows, stalking her every move, waiting to strike. One of those threats is looming over her and six others right now and has been for the past one hundred years, even if some of its targets remain blissfully unaware of its presence. There’s some part of Lup hidden deep inside of her that wants, too, to be blissfully unaware. That wants her memories wiped and her responsibilities stripped away. That no longer desires the burden of remembering. She doesn't like that part of herself.

Either way, Kravitz escorts Maureen’s soul away and leaves Lup standing in the lobby.

The receptionist says something, but she doesn’t hear it. She shuffles towards the elevators and presses the button at the very top. The ride there must be long, judging by how it usually takes forever for an elevator trip to a floor much closer, but it feels as if she was in the lobby one moment and on the roof the next. She steps out. There’s no breeze on her skin and no cold air against her face. It’s just flat. It’s all so frustratingly flat.

Behind her, the elevator dings and begins its descent. The ground in front of her seems to extend forever.

Lup heads towards the nearest ledge and swings her legs over, staring into the black sea below. There are no waves. Distant dots of white souls, yes, but no waves. No real movement. Only the silent stillness and peace of death. 

She wonders if she’d like that— stillness and peace. She doesn’t know if she would. Not yet, anyways.    
She’s tired. She knows that. But the jitteriness tugging at her, the desire for something more, the hopeless longing for a better future where she’s content with stillness and peace, even if it's in small quantities, won’t let her rest. She doesn’t think she wants to rest. She doesn’t think she should. 

And, yet, what is she doing right now?

She buries her face in her hands.  _ God.  _ She’s somewhere in between wanting to run a thousand laps and taking the world’s longest nap. Whatever distracts her the best.

She releases the tension in her shoulders and lets the tears well up in her eyes, lets them fall, lets her body rack with sobs she’s been holding in since the moment she set foot in this fucking place. She wants to go  _ home. _

Home had never been a physical place for her. Not really. Home was with the people she loved the most, but none of those people know her anymore, and, if they do, they don’t know she’s alive— or, at least, adjacent to it. She wants to go home, but her home was uprooted and scattered to the winds a long time ago. 

She sinks into herself and repeats the phrase in her mind like a child throwing a tantrum.  _ She wants to go home. She wants to go home. She wants to go home. _

Lup can’t go home. Not anymore.

She hears the shuffling of feet behind her. A voice asks, “Are you okay?” She doesn’t have to look to see its owner.

_ “Yes,” _ she snaps, and, then, upon realizing that she’s covered in snot and tears, rendering lying futile, concedes. “No.”

“Oh.” There’s a brief, awkward quiet. She gets the feeling he doesn’t do this often. “Mind if I sit here?” he asks. She says nothing in response, but Kravitz settles in next to her anyway.

“Taako is my twin brother,” she chokes out, finally.

He takes in a long breath and lets it out just as slowly. She wishes there was wind up here. Any kind of background noise. The silence is deafening. “Yeah, I figured.” 

There’s a long pause between them, and then he says, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” she replies. 

“Yes, I do. And I am. I’m sorry.”

She sniffles and rests her chin in her hands. “I’m sorry for lying. I should have said something. I should have told you.”

“I understand why you didn’t. I shouldn’t have been so… angry. And I’m sorry. Again.”

She turns to look at Kravitz. His scythe is gone, as well as his feathered cowl. He looks so small. Not a reaper of wayward souls, not a powerful ancient emissary to the goddess of life and death, not an immortal bounty hunter who can send someone to Hell with the swipe of a scythe— he looks like a regular person. And Lup, who is an immortal elf turned immortal lich turned immortal reaper, who is looking for her brother who forgot her, who has to fix the world before the world collapses in on itself at the same time that she has to fix her family, needs a little regularity.

“We accept each other’s apologies, then,” she says.

The corner of his lips ticks upwards. “I guess we do.” 

Another bout of silence, and then she admits, “He doesn’t remember me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“No, I mean— he literally can’t remember me. None of them can. Magnus and Merle, too. They can’t remember me.” 

“Oh,” he says. “Like— Like a curse?”

The truth is too complex and too inconceivable to put into words, so she doesn’t. Not yet. She’ll tell him someday, when she’s not too busy crying on a roof. “Something like that.”

While he’s processing it, she continues. “I just— I can’t imagine forgetting them. It’s not their fault, I know, and I’m not blaming them, but I— it’s awful. It would be awful. Every meaningful relationship I ever had… gone.”

Next to her, Kravitz grimaces. “Hmm.”

She draws her brow. “What?”   


“I just…” He shifts his gaze. “I don’t want to be morbid.”

Kravitz has the ability to shed his skin at will and reaps souls for a living, but he doesn’t want to be morbid. She’d tease him about that if she didn’t sense that he has more to say. “But?”

He glances at her, then turns away once again. “It’s not so hard to imagine after being in a profession like this for so long.”

“What? Like, memory curses?”

“No,” he says. “Like… forgetting.”

“What do you mean?”

Kravitz shrugs. “I mean… you just forget things the longer you’re alive. It’s like trying to recall things from your early childhood. They’re just— vague and absent. Distant. Like looking through a window that’s frosted over and trying to make stories out of shapes.”

“And what do you remember?” she asks.

He draws in a breath, still refusing to meet her eyes, instead looking towards the stark white of the sky. “I remember I liked music. I played the piano at church, even though I wasn’t religious. I just liked the sound, and I liked the praise, and I liked the joy it gave me.” He raps his fingers against the surface of the ledge. “I remember I had a mother. I remember she was kind.” His rhythmic tapping stops. “I remember my death. It’s the only thing I want to forget and I remember every detail.”

She doesn’t need to prompt him. He continues, his eyes squeezed shut. “I didn’t have a lot of friends back then. Just one. He was really into necromancy, which didn’t bother me. In the beginning, it was just cantrips, reading, whatever. I was just happy to have his company. But then he started getting more… involved.

“He wanted immortality, but he didn’t want the risk associated with lichdom. So, he learned Clone. Clone requires some flesh from the host, a sealed container for the clone to grow in, and… life.” He swallows thickly, but adds, “I was naive. He asked me to help him and I agreed. He promised I’d be fine. I still remember what it feels like to have the life drained from my body. The kind of power he craved is never free. It always has a price. 

“And when everything finally went dark, I woke up. The Raven Queen offered me a job and I took it. From there, I just… started forgetting. I don’t remember my mother’s face anymore. I don’t remember her voice. I reaped her when it was time to go— she hugged me, then went into the Sea and that was that. Everyone in my town forgot me and I forgot them. So, you know. I know how both of you feel, in a way.”

She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t think anything would be good enough. “I’m sorry, Kravitz,” she tells him, in lieu of any kind of appropriate response.

He waves a hand dismissively. “No, no,  _ I’m  _ sorry. We were talking about you and I made it about me. I’m sorry.” 

“No, Krav, that’s horrible. I had no idea.”

“Well…” The look on his face betrays unease and while the rest of him remains steady, his hands tremble, just a little bit. “It’s fine. It’s over now. Um… How’d your brother and his friends gather a death count like that?”

He wants to switch the topic. She silently agrees to comply. “It was accidental. No harm was done, I swear.”

He scoffs.  _ “Accidental?  _ 57 accidents?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try, at least.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, attempting to form the words. “We had no choice. We just kept coming back. I became a lich to protect everyone.”

Close enough. She became a lich so if everyone died one year, she could pilot the Starblaster to safety and there would be no more close calls. Besides, every time she died she’d always come back to a clingy Taako and a weepy Barry and she  _ hated  _ hurting them.

“How?” he asks. “Why?”

“It was, um… an external force, I think. One we had no control over. I know that sounds like bullshit, but I promise it’s not.”

He mulls over it, considering. Finally, he says, “57?”

Lup shrugs. “He’s the clumsiest.” If clumsy means befriending the apocalypse, she supposes. Turns out, the apocalypse really liked murdering him at the end of their conversations. 

He hums in some sort of agreement. Acceptance. Trust in her words. “Is there any way to break their memory curse?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m trying to get to it, but it’s hard and I don’t have much time.”

“You need help?” asks Kravitz.

She smiles and pats his shoulder. “Sweet of you to offer, Kravvy, but it’s, uh… a delicate situation.”

There’s another brief moment of (more comfortable) quiet, and then Lup asks, “Who’s Julia?”

Kravitz turns towards her. “Hmm?”

“Magnus mentioned a Julia,” she says.

“Oh,” he replies. “I thought you’d know.”

“Know what?”

He summons a well-worn notebook and flips the pages until he finds what he’s looking for. “I did a little research after they escaped me the first time. I mean, I was curious. It was the biggest bounty I’d ever seen. So, I asked the front desk if they had any relatives in the Sea of Souls or in the Stockade that I could talk to, and…”

He hands her the notebook. Scrawled in Kravitz’s messy penmanship reads  _ MAGNUS BURNSIDES— Death Count: 19. Crime(s): Failure to Register With Astral Plane Following Death. NOTES: Wife is Julia Waxmen, Father-in-law Steven Waxmen. Both currently residing in Sea of Souls. Plan to speak following Candlenights regarding nature of death crimes.  _

“Huh,” she says. “A wife. I missed that.”

“How did you miss a whole marriage?”

She passes the notebook back to him. “I haven’t spoken to them in a little over a decade.” 

He stares at it for a moment before willing it away. “Damn.”

“Yeah. I… Yeah.” She feels the tears begin to spring from her eyes and tries to wipe them before he notices, but more just keep coming and, before she knows it, she’s crying again. “They changed  _ so much,  _ Kravitz.”

Kravitz must notice her constricted speech and the sudden return of her heaving shoulders because he swivels around and says, “Oh.”

She doesn’t know what else to do except bury her face in her hands and let her entire body shake under her heaving sobs. She misses them. She misses them so much. Missing them is all she ever does anymore. It’s all she’s  _ been  _ doing for the past several years. She’s grieving people who are still living. She’s grieving and  _ she’s  _ the dead one.

When her crying finally settles enough to a point where she can speak, she chokes out, “The Taako before all of this— the Taako that knew me— was different. We both had this need to protect each other. Honestly, he probably saved my ass more often than I saved his. He was always this— this self preservationist, but I was the exception. Now I’m trying so hard to look out for the both of us and I can’t even do that right.”

Kravitz’s expression shifts deeper into concern. “Oh, Lup, no—”

“We used to do everything with each other. We were barely ever separated and, even if we were, it was never for long. We applied for schools together. We applied for jobs together. If they didn’t want both of us, they got neither of us. That’s how it was for so, so long. Now he’s  _ scared  _ of me.”

“Lup, I’m sure that’s not true.”

“No. You didn’t see how he looked at me when he saw me in that lab. He was terrified. They all were.” She drags a hand down her face. “I don’t know what he’s been doing for the past decade, but he’s quieter, I think. He forgot he wasn’t alone.”

A moment of quiet, and then, “It’s not the fact that he changed that upsets me. What bothers me is that he changed  _ without  _ me.”

She takes a long, shaky breath to steady herself before continuing. “I think the worst part is that he looked happier. Which is selfish and a horrible thing to say, I know, but— when I saw him last, he was tired. I think part of it was that I was tired. When we’re miserable, we’re miserable together, you know? And he did what he could to cheer me up, and it worked, but I knew we were still tired and we were going to be tired tomorrow and we were always going to be tired unless one of us did something about it. So I did.” She absentmindedly rubs her hand across the place where Cyrus stabbed her. She can still picture the blade exiting her stomach. Looking down and seeing blood and metal and poison while the skin around it rots. “It didn’t work out.

“When I saw him again after all that time, he was happier. He was smiling and laughing and cracking dumb jokes and it was genuine. He was happier without me, Kravitz.” Her voice begins to break. “He was happier having never known me.”

_ “Lup,” _ he says, before she can begin spiraling once again. “It’s not like that.”

She wipes the tears from her eyes, but it’s useless. They only replace themselves. “What?”

“Forgetting isn’t like that. It doesn’t make you happier. It just makes you…” He gestures vaguely. “Unaware.”

She scoffs. “Is there a difference?”

“Yeah,” he says. “There’s a difference. The memory you have isn’t painful because it’s  _ bad. _ It’s painful because you love him. I think he’d be feeling the same thing, too, if he could.”

Hmm.

There’s a long silence in which Lup thinks to herself and calms down, and then, finally, she breaks it by saying, “I’m sorry you forgot all the things you wanted to remember, Kravitz.”

He takes a breath and holds it. “I’m sorry they forgot you.”

Lup leans back, resting her palms against the edge of the ledge. “We’ll have to make new memories, then.”

She takes a moment to stare at the white, cloudless sky that stretches into infinity. She wonders how far it goes. “Are you still gonna talk to her?”

Kravitz glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “Who?”

“Julia,” she says. “You said something about speaking to her after Candlenights.”

“Oh.” He bites his cheek. “Probably not. I mean, all I was gonna ask about was the death crimes, but I don’t think I need to anymore.”

She hums in response, considering, and then asks, “How’d you know me and Taako were twins?”

At that, he looks a bit incredulous. “You look just alike, Lup.”

“Yeah, ‘cept I’m the cooler one.”

Kravitz grins. “Debatable.”

She laughs wetly. “What, you don’t believe me? Do  _ I  _ wear a stupid wizard hat? I don’t think so.”

“Does Taako regularly break into my apartment?”

“How is breaking and entering  _ not  _ cool?”

“I’ve put magical locks on the door before. You have to know how to disarm them to break in, and some of them were pretty complicated. Therefore, you’re a nerd.”

“Shut up. They weren’t complicated, you’re just dumb.”

“Or maybe you’re a nerd.”

“Nuh uh, stupid.”

“Nerd.”

She kicks his ankle and he kicks hers back. “You wanna know something fucked?” Lup asks.

“Of course I wanna know something fucked.”

“Alright.” She shifts until she’s sitting with her legs crossed, balancing on the ledge, facing him. “I was stuck in an umbrella before you killed me.”

_ “What?” _

“Yeah,” she tells him. “Taako was carrying it around. He got in some battlewagon race and dropped it. I was gonna go after him, but  _ somebody  _ likes to ruin people’s fun.”

He throws his hands up. “What was I supposed to do?  _ Ignore  _ the random lich I ran into?”

“You could’ve gambled with me,” she says. “You gambled with other people for their souls. I would’ve beat your ass in poker.”

“I was busy trying to also capture the other very well-paying bounty I was chasing. By the way, you wouldn’t beat me in poker. I’m amazing at poker. I’ve had hundreds of years of practice.”

“Me too, buddy! I’m an elf  _ and  _ a lich! I’ve spent almost all of my extended years of life perfecting my poker skills! I became undead solely to have extra time to improve at poker!”

“And it did nothing. You still suck.”

“You haven’t even played a game with me.”

“I didn’t want you to have to experience crushing defeat.”

“Or maybe you were scared to lose.”

“Are we gonna circle back to that umbrella thing? I’m still confused about that.”

She smiles. “Long story. Nice way of changing the topic, by the way. Really good job distracting from the fact that you’re bad at card games and don’t want to admit it.”

He rolls his eyes and waves her off, but he’s grinning. “Maybe we should talk about the fact that you somehow found your way back to the material plane after I watched you leave through a portal. What happened there? Did you figure out portal-ing?”

“Nah,” she says. “I stood in-between.”

“In-between what?”

“You know. The portal.”

“You did _ what?” _

“Yeah. Turns out, if you shuffle back and forth enough, you can chill _ in-between _ portals. Don’t recommend it, though. Wasn’t fun. Anyways, after you left, I crawled back through the entry portal and made my way to Legion.”

“You can  _ do  _ that?”

“More proof that you’re dumb,” she says. “Worked this job for hundreds of years and didn’t even know about the secret portal world. Disappointed in you, Krav.”

“Not dumb. I’ve just never needed to hide inside of a portal to get away from my superiors.”

“First of all, you’re not my superior—”

“You’re literally my trainee.”

“-- second of all, the fact that I found it after my first few weeks here and you didn’t only serves as evidence of your stupidity.”

“And it’s evidence of your nerdiness.”

She lightly punches him on the shoulder and he punches her back, but they’re both grinning.

After yet another moment of quiet and calm, she says, "Thanks for throwing the card game."

He offers her a small smile in response. "Of course," he tells her. Of course. Of course he would lose intentionally. Of course he would let them go. Of course. It was a silent act of trust and she appreciates it more than she can say.

Lup leans back against her hands, staring below at a vast colorless sky. If she tried hard enough, she could sneak into the moon base. She could find the Starblaster and fly into a different world in a different timeline where everyone remembers. Where they’re together. Where they could try again. She could reset. 

But she watches Kravitz staring at an ocean far beneath his feet, kicking his legs back and forth while countless souls dive in and out of the still water below, and she remembers Taako laughing with Merle and Magnus, having found each other despite being apart for so long, and she feels hard brick underneath her fingertips instead of the same black tar that used to rain down every year, and she knows that she’d never leave this world to its demise. Lup has had enough unwanted destruction to last a lifetime.

The world almost died a decade ago. But it didn’t.

The world will almost die again. But it won’t.

It’s this world, she realizes. This is the last time this ever happens. This is the last time she watches a planet die.

This time, they’re going to win.

“Let’s go inside,” she says, soft and quiet but still there.

The two of them rise from the ledge, enter the elevator, and begin the long journey down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on this installment of I Do Not Know Card Games: i have no clue what "high card draw" is. i thought it was just whoever draws the highest card from the deck but i guess not?? i think it has something to do with poker????? maybe??????? also until i reread the transcripts i completely forgot killian was not present for the legion fight bc she left after they all got un-paralyzed and i was SO sad. the potential for cool team sweet flips moves in the legion fight........ lost...............  
> anyways! look at that!! krav sees the thb for the first time, lup fights legion alongside them, lup and krav have a chat on the rooftop....... yeehaw!!! now that crystal kingdom is concluded we can move on to eleventh hour/lunar interlude territory. its all going so fast..... can u believe my past self outlining this fic thought i would be able to fit ALL of crystal kingdom into one chapter. oh the hubris.  
> next chapter: lup discovers cutthroat kitchen  
> hope you all enjoyed!!!!! thanks for reading!!!!  
> tumblr: nillial


	8. Magic Class and Cooking Lessons

Taako is spending his afternoon teaching magic to the Bureau’s resident boy detective, which is proving itself to be quite the endeavor.

Angus is a fast learner and a great student, at the very least— he all but inhales the spellbooks Taako provides, he practices frequently, and he takes extensive notes (although Taako did pluck the notepad out of his hands and toss it aside, explaining that wizardry is a craft meant to be experienced, not studied like a  _ nerd, _ which, in retrospect, is absolutely not true). He’s always eager to learn and revels in having Taako as a mentor. Taako understands. He  _ is  _ a pretty great teacher. 

The problem is he gets down on himself easily if he doesn’t automatically take to a spell, which Taako doesn’t love to see. Although he’d never admit it aloud, he does like Angus. Somewhat.

For the fourth time that day, Angus’s Mage Hand morphs into a twitching hand- _ like _ apparition. For the fourth time that day, Taako stabs it with a fork and it dissipates into thin air. Although it was alarming at first, it’s become a bit routine— he can only hope when Angus does manage to cast Mage Hand correctly that he doesn’t stab it out of habit.

Angus buries his head in his hands and sinks into his seat. “I’m sorry, sir,” he mumbles. “I— I can’t do it.”

“Sure you can,” he says, absentmindedly carving lines into the table with the tip of one of the fork’s prongs. “Magic is hard. You just need practice.”

Angus nods, but he doesn’t seem any more optimistic. Taako rests his chin in his hand and reaches for one of the macaroons Angus baked. It’s disappointing. Although Taako casted prestidigitation on them in order to give them a better taste, it’s still rather bland. Although the texture and structure are both reasonably good, the flavor isn’t there. It’s just not enjoyable to eat. 

He reaches for another one.

Between bites, he says, “Listen, little dude, why don’t we take a break from this spell? I’ve got another one you can do. And it’s meant for violence, so it’s better than Mage Hand by default.”

Angus peeks out from between his fingers. “What is it?”

Taako reaches out his palm, focuses, and lets a ball of flame manifest over it. It intensifies, and, then, when it’s ready, he flings it at the far side of the wall. It leaves a burn mark. “Fire Bolt.”

Angus clutches the edges of the table, his mouth agape, stars in his eyes. “Whoa!” he marvels. “Sir, that’s amazing! Also, you did property damage!”

“Wizard Lesson Number Six: Crime doesn’t count if you don’t get caught.”

“What are the other five lessons, sir?”

“You’ll find out when it’s time.” He pauses. “By the way, Wizard Lesson Number Four, the most important: snitches get stitches.”

Angus nods sagely, as if he’s just been given the wisest advice in the known universe. Which he has— just because Taako made up the Wizard Lessons on the spot doesn’t mean they’re not _ wise. _

“Okay,” Taako begins, leaning forward on his elbows, “hold out your hands.”

Angus complies, bouncing up and down his seat. 

“Alright,” he says. “Now tap into that magic like before and focus it in your palms.”

His face twists in concentration. After a few moments, a soft, nearly imperceptible glow begins to emanate from his hands.

He considers giving him a high five just to mess him up, but decides against it. “Cool. Imagine a flame.”

Although Taako’s instructions are relatively vague, Angus’s expression intensifies, and, soon, sparks rise from his outstretched palms. A small flicker of fire materializes in his hold. Angus tentatively peeks at his work, then immediately bursts into an enthusiastic grin. 

“Sir!” he shouts, shoving the flame in Taako’s face. “Sir! Sir! Look! I did it!”

“Great work, kid.” He lowers his hands. “Please don’t burn my eyebrows off.”

“Sorry, sir,” Angus apologizes sheepishly before returning to admiring his spell. 

The fire casts shadows across his face, illuminating his wide eyes and wider grin. His astonishment is pure and in great quantity, radiating off of him. Something tugs at both Taako’s heart and mind, begging him to acknowledge it, and he tries, he does, but an invisible barrier keeps him from delving too deep. The imagery causes him to remember something, someone— someone from a long time ago. Someone who also loved fire. 

Angus glances up. “Is something wrong, sir?”

He’s pulled out of his thoughts. “No,” he says. “You just— you remind me of somebody.”

“Who?”

He draws in a slow breath and tells him the truth. “I don’t know.”

Taako recognizes the turning of cogs in Angus’s mind and he knows he’s about to start solving a new mystery, so he stops him before that happens. “So are you gonna use the spell, or what?”

Angus blinks. “But, sir, there’s nowhere to cast it. Shouldn’t I just dispel it?”   


He clicks his tongue. “No, no, no. Have you already forgotten Wizard Lesson Number Six? Just fling it at the wall. It’ll look dope.”

He can see beads of sweat begin to form on Angus’s forehead. “But— but sir—” he says, nervousness creeping into his tone, “won’t Madame Director be mad?”

“What, because of a little scorch mark on the wall? She won’t find out! And you know why, Angus?”

“Because snitches get stitches?”

“Becauses snitches get stitches. That’s exactly correct. Now cast that spell!”

“But—”

“Cast it!”

Angus quickly throws it towards the wall. It, too, leaves a burn, as well as a small crater. It does, however, look dope, just as Taako predicted.

“See?” he asks. “Pretty cool, huh?”

Angus, wringing his hands together, nods. Then, quietly, he says, “Madame Director is going to be so angry.”

“Ugh, fine. Watch this.” Taako casts prestidigitation. There’s a ripple in the air where the marks are and, suddenly, they’re concealed.

“Would it not be better to cast Mending?” asks Angus.

“Would you question a master?” he retorts, filling his voice with false gravitas. Angus shrinks in on himself.

Taako rolls his eyes. Dammit. “Prestidigitation is ranged and Mending is touch. I don’t feel like getting up. Wizard Lesson Number Three: Always do things the easy way.”

Angus’s eagerness swiftly returns. “Did I earn another one of the Wizard Lessons, sir?” 

“Sure did.” Taako folds his hands in front of him. “Hey, you like to run around places, though, right?”

“I do like detective work,” he replies. “It requires a lot of running around.”

He grins. “How would  _ you  _ like to learn Mending?”

-

Lup arrives at Kravitz’s apartment to find the door unlocked.

This isn’t too shocking— there have been occasions where he’s forgotten to lock the door in his hurry to catch a bounty or to quickly run to the elevator and grab something from his desk downstairs. Lup usually takes those brief opportunities to slip inside, raid his fridge, and continue on her quest to ruin his Netflix account. Still, it’s happened less and less in the recent past. She’s had to disarm about a million magical alarms and locks just to steal some pizza rolls from him.

Lup cautiously turns the doorknob and steps inside, half-expecting to walk straight into a trap or for Kravitz to walk around the corner. Nothing happens. She’s successfully made her way in with no real trouble.  _ Suspicious. _

She slowly makes her way to the fridge and slides open the door to find a bag of chicken nuggets— dinosaur shaped, of course, the best kind— and a half-full bottle of Cherry Coke. There’s no alarm. She doesn’t see any empty bottles of poison. Kravitz still hasn’t poked his head out of the ceiling tiles with a spell aimed at her. She may just be in the clear.

Lup sits down on the couch, her posture stiff, her eyes darting around the room. She grabs the remote. No bombs go off. She turns the TV on. No arrows come shooting out of the walls. She accesses Netflix. No hand reaches up from the depths and grabs her by the ankles to drag her to a deeper Hell.

Lup is… okay.

She spends a solid half hour sampling shows before getting bored of them and moving on to something else, effectively clogging Kravitz’s Continue Watching section. At last, she hears the door creak open and sees Kravitz, his cloak askew and dirtied, his shoe missing, and half his face caked in mud. He snaps his fingers and returns to normalcy in a blink of an eye. Plopping down on the seat next to her, he says, “Rough bounties.”

She waits for a  _ “Lup, what are you doing here?” _ or a _ “I’m this close to chucking you in the Stockade myself!” _ but nothing comes. Instead, he reaches for the Coke bottle and takes a deep swig. 

“You okay, bud?” she asks.

He looks up from kicking off the shoes he had just magicked back on, revealing the colorful hand-knit socks underneath. “Yeah,” he tells her. “I mean, I caught ‘em and got a bunch of gold, so I’m pretty good. What are you watching?”

She glances up at the TV screen. “Uh, something about murder, I think. You’d like it, given your homicidal tendencies.”

He kicks her, but his thick socks soften the blow so it’s more like being hit with a pillow. “Not a murderer.”

There’s a brief silence in which Kravitz just watches the screen in front of him and Lup stews in her own confusion. Finally, she asks, “Not gonna try and make me leave? ‘Try’ being the key word.”

He sighs. “Nah. I spent four spell slots just securing my door the other day.  _ Four. _ And you still got in. I give up.”   
Huh. If anything, this has taught Lup a new life lesson: If you want to chill in someone’s apartment, just keep breaking in until they stop caring. Despite being hundreds of years old, she never stops gaining wisdom. 

She tosses Kravitz the remote. “Here. I can’t find anything good.”

He takes it and begins flipping through show titles. “Jesus, how many things did you watch?”

“A lot,” she says, “but only the first five minutes of each of them and only to be annoying.”

He sighs and continues his search. “You like trashy reality TV?” he asks.

She swivels around to face him at a speed that frightens even her. Alarm crosses Kravitz’s features for a moment, then passes. “I  _ love  _ trashy reality TV.”

“Netflix has been on a real reality TV kick lately,” he tells her, scrolling through the titles. “I mean, they haven’t got the  _ real  _ good stuff, but they’re getting there. I’m still hoping they’ll add Fantasy  _ Floribama Shore _ at some point.”

“What’s  _ Floribama Shore?” _

He abruptly stops his scrolling and looks at her with— pity? Hope? Some weird sorrowful enthusiasm? “Oh, Lup,” he says, his tone full of an emotion that she can’t pin down, “you have so much to learn.”

She turns her attention back to the screen.  _ “Love is Blind?” _

He shrugs. “Mm, not bad. Lots of secondhand embarrassment.” 

_ “Dating Around?” _

He scrunches his nose. “I can’t. They really amplify the mouth noises for some reason.”

“Ew.”

“There was a couple in the first episode that started making out at the end of their date. It was so loud. I have never heard a make out session so loud. All of those mouth noises, Lup, and right in my ear holes.”

“Oh, God, okay, no, we won’t watch it. What about…” She scans the titles on the screen until her eyes land on something promising. “What’s _ Cutthroat Kitchen?” _

“Oh. It’s, like, they have a bunch of chefs and they’re all competing for a bunch of money, but the chefs can use that reward money to sabotage the other chefs. Like, they can pay a couple grand to make one of the other chefs cook blindfolded, which means they’ll go home with less if they win, but it gives them a better shot. Everyone’s mean to each other. It’s very entertaining.”

“Cool,” she says. “We’ll watch that.”

Kravitz doesn’t seem to hear her. “But it’s not, like— it’s not  _ trashy  _ reality TV, you know? For it to be  _ true  _ trashy, it has to have a set cast, there has to be a lot of zoom-ins, and every seemingly innocuous or mildly rude thing has to be exaggerated and fought over for a two episode minimum. If someone did something actually awful, which isn’t uncommon, it’s talked about all season if not for several seasons. And, like, the cast in the interviews have to talk about how they’re tired of being involved in constant drama and then in the same episode actively try to fight another cast member.  _ Cutthroat Kitchen  _ is really good, but it’s not  _ trashy  _ in the sense that it isn’t— What?”

She only stares at him.

“I— I have standards for what can be considered trash TV, okay?” He selects C _ utthroat Kitchen _ and presses play. “Let’s just watch.”

-

Lup spends an ungodly amount of time watching  _ Cutthroat Kitchen. _

By the time she rolls herself off of Kravitz’s couch (which proves to be quite the endeavor), she realizes she’s left a Lup-shaped indent in the cushions. Her entire body molded to the seat. She considers making a cast of it, but decides against it. Some art is best left as a fleeting masterpiece, only to be consumed by those who are able to appreciate it.

Kravitz stands. Lup notices his legs wobble. “My God,” he groans, “I’ve sat in one place for so long that I’m _ sore.” _

“I think I understand the true meaning of hubris now,” she squeaks, laying sprawled on the floor next to the foot of the couch. At the time, sliding from the couch to the ground seemed like less effort. In hindsight, simply standing up from her seat would have gone a lot smoother. “We can’t do that again. I think I might die for real.”

“Me too,” replies Kravitz.

There’s a brief moment of silence, and then he adds, “So, we’re starting the next season tomorrow, right?”

“Oh, fuck yeah, of course,” she tells him, sitting up. “Get more Cherry Vanilla Coke for me, though. And popcorn. The kind that’s smothered in butter.”

“Not even a ‘please.’” He nudges her with his foot. “Rude.”

“You murdered me.”

Instead of responding, Kravitz rolls his eyes and wills his bounty book into his hands, flipping through its pages. “I’m gonna go catch some death criminals. I’ve been sedentary for too long. Feel free to train or break into other people’s homes or whatever.”

“Yes, my only two hobbies,” she teases, although he isn’t too far off base. With her own apartment still devoid of decoration and sparsely furnished, she spends a lot of her leisure time either training or trespassing in Kravitz’s place. There’s not really much to do in the Astral Plane. She’d love to leave, but, alas, no portals. “I’ve actually got something I want to work on, you know.”

He gives her a sidelong glance. “Which is?”

“Something illegal, probably,” Lup replies.

“Should’ve known.” He summons his scythe and quickly swipes downward in the air, creating a rift. Lup suppresses a shudder as memories of her last portal trip resurface. “I’ll see you, then. Please don’t destroy anything while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” she says.

He ignores her and leaves, as if Lup  _ won’t  _ commit felony arson if prompted. Still, she’s got work to do, so no fire-starting today— instead, she rises from the ground, taking a moment to let the pins and needles drain out of her legs, and heads for the elevator.

After a much too long trip consisting of at least three cycles of light music, Lup finally reaches the lobby. She strolls to the receptionist desk, grabbing a butterscotch from the bowl of candy on the counter, and leans forward, her elbow resting on the desk’s surface. “Hey, Jim.”

He glances up from his computer. “Hi, um…”

That’s right. He’s only seen her once before. He doesn’t know of Kravitz’s intense and burning hatred for him, nor does he know that she cursed him in exchange for a field mission. “Lup.”

“Lup,” he repeats. “Can I help you?”

“Deffo. Do you have a Julia registered anywhere here on the Astral Plane? Married to one Magnus Burnsides?”

He types something on his keyboard, and, after a few clicks, asks, “Julia Waxmen, currently residing in the Sea of Souls?”

“Eh, probably.” She pops the butterscotch in her mouth. “Mind printing off her file for me, Jimmy?”

He winces at her use of ‘Jimmy’, but continues. “Of course,” he says. “What is this regarding?”

“Need some info on a bounty. Have to ask her a few questions,” she replies, reaching for another candy. “Real important.”

He narrows his eyes. “I haven’t seen you around before, Lup. Only authorized reapers are permitted to interact with souls residing in the Sea, and only under special cases, which, even if this was a special case, you’d need to have filled out the proper paperwork beforehand.”

Ah. A snitch. Lup is quickly beginning to share in Kravitz’s hatred for this man. “What is it with you people and paperwork? It’s literal Hell. Let loose. Have some fun. Learn necromancy.”

“I’m going to take it you don’t have permission.” 

She groans. “Ugh, come  _ on, _ James.”

“Please don’t call me James.”

“It’s one conversation. Plus, Kravitz sent me. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Jim's mouth twists into a grimace. “Twelve-in-a-row recipient of the Employee of the Year award? That Kravitz?”

Lup can’t help but let herself smile. She’s struck a nerve— that much is obvious. Now all she has to do is use it. “None other. Man, he’s just really good at what he does, huh? It’s a real honor learning from him.” 

She is cringing. She is cringing  _ so  _ intensely. Still, Jim seems to grow visibly irritated, so mission accomplished.

“Sure,” he mumbles. 

“You know, being Kravitz’s trainee,” she adds, “I’ve met the Raven Queen a couple times. They like to hang, as I’m sure you know.”

Jim sighs. “I know.”

“I like to pipe in on the convo from time to time. Add my input. And, you know, I could mention your name here or there. Talk about what a fantastic receptionist you are. How you… maybe…” She sticks yet another butterscotch in her mouth. “Deserve an award?”

At that, he perks up. “Like… Employee of the Year?”

“I’m just sayin’.” She leans forward conspiratorially. “Krav isn’t the only one who Lady Goth is fond of. I’ve got some sway, too.”

She hasn’t spoken to the Raven Queen since she first died, nor has she any sway at all with her. If anything, she likely has  _ negative  _ influence over her decisions. Still, Jim seems to buy it. 

“Okay,” he whispers, “I’ll give you the file and formal permission to contact her. Just this once.”

“Thanks, Jim, you’re a real homie,” she half-shouts, just to make the wanderers in the lobby stare. Jim startles and shushes her.

He does some more clicking on his computer and soon she hears the whirring of the printer on his desk. After a few minutes, he hands her a small stack of papers, still warm. On top is Julia’s basic personal information, as well as a brief description of her appearance, and on the next page she finds a list of immediate family members. After scanning it, her eyes land on what she’s looking for—  _ Magnus Burnsides (Husband). Status: Living. _

“Perfect,” she tells him. 

“And I, uh…” He, again, lowers his voice to a hushed whisper. “I can count on you for that recommendation?”

Lup offers him a lopsided smile. “Oh, Jim,” she says, “would I ever lie to you?”

She turns to leave, then suddenly swivels around on her heels to grab the entire bowl of butterscotch. “I’ll just be taking this,” she tells him, and, before he can protest, speed-walks in the direction of the double doors leading outside.

She hasn’t actually  _ been  _ outside yet. She’s been on the roof, sure, but she hasn’t seen the Sea up close, nor has she strolled along its shore. Lup takes a tentative step onto the dull sands in front of her, her boots sinking slightly into the ground, and begins to walk towards the water, clutching the file tight to her chest. 

The Sea sits as flat and as still as the ground itself. With no tide to move it, there’s no visible divide between the wet and dry sand, nor any inbetween. It’s just dry dirt, then water. Water that stretches out into infinity. Unending inky blackness against a stark white sky. Lup is afraid to touch it. She fears that if she does, it will consume her, crawl up her skin like the shadow from the portal, corrupt her, break her, end her. She isn’t risking it.

It occurs to Lup that she doesn’t know exactly how to commune with the souls in the Sea. She didn’t think to ask, and, now that she promised Jim something she absolutely cannot do in exchange for papers he absolutely was not supposed to give her and stole an entire bowl of candy off of his desk, she’s not going back. 

Maybe Kravitz was right. Maybe Jim doesn’t deserve the Employee of the Year reward. After all, he did fall for her half-baked lie and give her some illegal files as well as permission to speak to souls she really shouldn’t be allowed to speak to. If anything, him not winning the coming Employee of the Year won’t be Lup’s fault. It’ll be his. 

Yes. That’s how she’ll alleviate her guilt. Go, Lup.

Lup shuffles closer to the shoreline and stares into the ocean in front of her, gazing at the faint lights swimming around inside. She swallows her fear, cups her hands over her mouth, and shouts, “Julia Waxmen?”

Nothing happens. She can’t say she’s surprised. 

She kicks some sand into the water. It spits it back up, still dry, onto the spot it was in before. Lup shudders and backs away slightly. 

“Julia Waxmen!” she yells once again, no echo returning to her. She bites the inside of her cheek. This is not going how she planned.

She leans down next to the water’s edge, peering into the depths. “Julia Waxmen!” she yells once more. 

Lup is about to give up, but then she hears a voice, distant yet so close. “I’m here.”

Her breath hitches. She lifts her head to see the faint outline of a tall, heavyset woman, a bright light placed firmly in the middle of her silhouette, which emanates a blue glow. She stares down at her, her gaze cold, her eyes glazed over. Her words are hushed and monotone and devoid of life, weighed down by— exhaustion, maybe? Sadness? Total indifference? Lup gets the feeling that she was different when she was still walking the Earth.

“Oh,” breathes Lup, nearly too quiet to be heard. “Hello.”

Julia doesn’t respond.

She digs her fingers into the sand, only staring for a moment, then takes out the bowl of candy from before and extends it in her direction. “Butterscotch?”

She stares past it, her gaze fixed on her.

“Okay, no butterscotch.” She sets it down beside her. “I have a few questions for you, Julia.”

Julia doesn’t say anything. She only cocks her head, waiting.

Lup should have prepared questions. She should have at least  _ thought  _ of questions. She didn’t think she’d get this far at all.

“Do you, um,” she asks, stumbling over her words, “do you know Magnus Burnsides?”

She nods, slowly, mechanically. The rest of her body stays perfectly stationary.

“Great,” she tells her, shakily, “great, great, great. He’s your husband?”

Another nod, just as stiff as the last.

“Well, I know Magnus Burnsides. He’s an— uh— an old friend of mine. Name’s Lup. Nice to meet you.” She reaches out a hand for her to shake. She doesn’t take it. She recedes her arm. “‘Kay, cool.”

There’s a long silence. Lup feels as if she’s having a conversation with herself. Finally, she asks, “Did he ever mention me?”

Julia answers with a slow shake of her head. 

Lup sighs. “Yeah, expected as much. Taako? Merle? Davenport, Barry, Lucretia? Any of those ring a bell?”

Another shake of her head. She’s not surprised. Magnus can’t mention people he doesn’t remember. 

Lup chews on the inside of her cheek. She’s not sure what to do. She’s not sure if she should have done this at all. “Um, Julia,” she says, “I just— I wasn’t there for a really long time. Magnus is very important to me, and I— I want to know— what was he like?”

Julia’s gaze drifts from Lup’s and off into space. Her eyes are dull. She’s trying to remember, Lup thinks, but less like a person recalling a fond memory and more like a computer retrieving information. At last, she speaks. Her tone is flat and distant. Lup has to strain her ears to hear her. “He was kind,” she tells her. Lup notices that her voice has grown hoarse with disuse, each word scratchy and frail. “He loved carpentry and dogs and people. And me. He loved me and I loved him.”

Magnus began woodworking during Cycle 47, but, if she remembers correctly, he wasn’t able to do much. He preferred to spend his time throwing his fists into whatever mildly threatening entity had chosen to berate them or planning a practical joke on his fellow crew members or blowing up the kitchen by sticking silly putty in the oven. Lup knows this because she, herself, often had a hand in those activities. Still, he wasn’t bad at it, and he enjoyed it. It doesn’t surprise her that he ended up doing it as a career. “Carpentry?” she asks.

“Yes,” Julia continues. “My father and I owned the Hammer and Tongs in the craftsmen corridor of Raven’s Roost. We were known around Faerun for our woodworking. When we took Magnus in, he already had an aptitude for it, although he claimed he had never carved anything before in his life. We taught him what we knew. It didn’t take long for him to gain some renown. Although, I suppose carpentry wasn’t all people knew him for.”

She draws her brow. “What else did he do?”

Again, Julia returns her stare to the same point in space she had been looking at before and stands in silence. More remembering. “He led Raven’s Roost in a rebellion against Governor Kalen. We won. He earned some glory, but didn’t acknowledge it much— just settled back into carpentry. We were married not long after.” She closes her eyes, only for a moment. “He built a gazebo for the both of us and carved our wedding rings. I was— so happy. We were so happy.”

She hears the unspoken words hidden beneath—  _ And now I’m here and he’s living.  _ A dead woman’s grief.

“What was it like?” Lup asks. “Your wedding.”

“There was music, lights, and dancing. We had our best friends and our family there.” She tilts her head. “Magnus didn’t have any family. He said he had no siblings and every time I asked about parents, or aunts, or cousins, he would look so confused and change the topic. When I did get him to talk, he said he didn’t have any. I didn’t think that was true.”

It wasn’t. Magnus had a family. Magnus  _ has  _ a family. He just can’t remember.

Lup decides to move on. “How’d you meet?”

Julia spends another moment in quiet in order to recall, then tells her, “He was looking into the window of the Hammer and Tongs. We had some pieces on display. I don’t think he knew anyone else was on the other side. He spent a long while just staring, and eventually I stepped outside and asked if he was going to buy anything.” She doesn’t need to see nor hear her smile to know that it’s there. “He did. He bought a birdhouse I made. And he kept coming back.”

“And you?” Lup asks. “What were you like?”

“I was—” A pause. “I was happy. I loved my dad. I loved working in the shop. I loved laughing. I think I was funny, or at least I had a good sense of humor. I wasn’t shy, but I was a homebody, so I didn’t get out much. I started learning to carve when my father determined I was responsible enough to manage a whittling knife, and I took to woodworking like a fish to water. And I was proud. I was proud of myself and of my work and of my home. I never considered pride a negative thing.” Her gaze shifts to the side. “I wasn’t an angry person. But I remember this intense, righteous anger towards Governor Kalen. I remember the euphoria of winning. The relief.”

She hesitates, her nails digging into her flesh as she bites back her reply. She knows she needs to ask. She has to find out. “How did you die?”

Julia twitches, if only slightly. “I was in the shop with my father. There was the loudest noise I had ever heard, and then there was silence, and then there was wind, and then there was screaming. Everything slid to one side. I watched through the window as the ground turned into sky. There was a pressure at my back and everything went dark. I knew who was behind it before we even finished falling.” Her shoulders tense for the briefest of moments, then fall. “Magnus had just left for a woodworking convention the day before. I’m not sure if Governor Kalen knows he’s alive. I don’t think I want to know what he would do if he found out.”

Shit. The creeping horror of a death quick enough to kill nearly instantly yet slow enough to allow the realization of an imminent demise is something she knows well enough to understand. It’s awful, obviously, that she had to go through that. Awful that one man killed so many. Awful that she should be happy in Raven’s Roost but is instead trapped in the Sea as a husk of what she was before.

Lup makes a mental note to add Governor Kalen to her shitlist. 

“Well,” she says, finally breaking the silence, “thank you for talking to me. I appreciate it. And, for what it’s worth—” She draws in a breath. “-- I’m sorry for what happened, Jules.”

Her demeanor remains unchanged right up until Lup says the last word. At that, the glaze over her eyes seems to lift, an invisible fog clearing. Her face twitches and she closes her arms around herself. She looks scared. 

She blinks rapidly. Her eyes dart around frantically. Her mouth moves up and down but doesn’t produce any noise, instead only forming silent words that Lup can’t interpret until it begins to form a pattern and the nearly imperceptible whisper reaches her ears. _ Jules, Jules, Jules. _ Over and over again with increasing urgency.  _ Jules, Jules, Jules. _ Like she wants to say more, needs to say more, but can’t articulate it.  _ Jules, Jules, Jules.  _ Like she’s really remembering.

Julia’s stare at last fixes firmly on Lup. She stops speaking, stops whispering for a moment and stands silent and shaking. As her form begins to dissipate, her glow diminishing, she asks, trembling and scared, “Where—?”

She doesn’t finish her sentence. Lup reaches out for her, but it’s too late. Her ghostly form flickers and vanishes, leaving only the soul beneath, which lowers gently back into the inky waters of the Sea and disappears underneath its surface. Julia is gone.

Lup stuffs her papers into her cloak and tentatively steps away from the shoreline. She’s not sure she should have spoken to her at all. Maybe she should have let her stay in the unending rest the Sea provides. Still, that’s one mystery solved— and one governor to fuck up.

She’ll do something. She’ll find a way to give Julia a better afterlife. She can’t leave her like that— can’t leave her numb and asleep and someone else for the rest of eternity, can’t leave her after seeing the turmoil on her face upon waking up. 

Lup is going to help her.

Somehow.

-

After heading inside and successfully ignoring Jim’s pleas of  _ “You have to give that bowl back!”, _ Lup takes the elevator upstairs to the apartments. In her mind, she’s brainstorming ways to break Julia out of the ghost pond, although it’s not going very well. She could ask the Raven Queen to make her a reaper, although she probably wouldn’t  _ love  _ it if a former lich asked her to bring back her death criminal friend’s dead wife after illegally pulling her out of the Sea of Souls for a chat. She could ask Kravitz to ask the Raven Queen, although she can imagine how that would go down:  _ You don’t have the authorization to talk to the souls in the Sea, Lup, how did you even do that, Lup, was Jim at the front desk, Lup?  _ Or she could do what Lucas did and stuff Julia’s soul into a robot. Who doesn’t want to have a robot body?

Upon reaching her door, she nearly enters her own apartment, but decides to go inside Kravitz’s place instead. She could use some more snacks and TV and  _ maybe  _ a nap on someone else’s couch.

Kravitz is staring into his fridge when she steps inside, but turns when he hears her come in. “Oh,” he says. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” she replies. “Who’d you expect?”

“No one. I’m just regretting letting you walk in here whenever you want.”

“You know I’d only break in if you didn’t. Locking the door would be wasting both our time. How was your murdering spree?”

“I’m not a murderer. Captured some death criminals, though. I actually decided to do some grocery shopping with the reward money, because, you know, the summoned stuff doesn’t taste as good.” He turns back to the open fridge. “It didn’t… go well.”

Lup makes her way to the fridge and peers inside. The shelves are stocked with various condiments, ready-made foods and fruits, most of which are thoroughly bruised. She pulls out a papaya and, turning it over in her hands, asks, “How are all of these already this fucked up?”

He sucks in a breath. “I just… I opened up a portal and I just kind of… threw everything inside. I think most of the fruit hit the wall.”

“You threw them so hard they hit the wall?”

“I was excited to cook, okay?”

“You don’t even cook, Krav, you summon stuff and then shove it into the freezer. I mean, what were planning to make?” She reaches inside and pulls out some of the contents, then presents them to him. “What were you going to do with tabasco and lychee, Kravitz? What were you going to do? I just saw a metric fuckton of radicchio in there but not one jug of milk. You bought  _ radicchio  _ but you didn’t even think to get something as basic as  _ milk?” _

“I panicked! I just— I thought—”

“What did you think? What—” She halts mid-sentence as a light goes off in her head. She knows  _ exactly  _ what he thought. “You thought you could beat the contestants on  _ Cutthroat Kitchen.” _

“No!” he scoffs. And, then, quieter and with a hint of shame, “... Yes.” 

“Oh my God.”

“I was inspired!”

“Kravitz, all of this produce is going to go to waste because we won’t be able to find anything to do with it. You and I are going to be munching on nothing but raw radicchio for the next week.”

“Or,” he suggests, “we could just throw away whatever we don’t use after it goes bad.”

She shoves her pointer finger in his face. “I want you to know that what you just said goes against everything in my moral code.”

“You won’t throw away food but you’ll become a lich?  _ That’s _ your moral code?”

“Kravitz, you’re a murderer. You murder people. For a living.”

“You can’t just call me a murderer in order to win every argument.”

“Yes, I can, actually. The fact that you’re a serial killer and I’m not automatically means I’m better than you.”

He lowers her hand. “We have the same job, Lup.”

“Except I’ve never reaped anyone. I’ve only beat people up and then had  _ you  _ reap them.”

“That just makes you bad at your job.”

“The point is,” Lup says, ignoring him, “that we have to find a way to use some of these ingredients before they expire. Lucky for you, I’m a kickass chef.”   


“That remains to be seen.”

“Oh, Kravitz. First you propose throwing away perfectly good radicchio and then you insult my superior cooking skills.” She pats him on the cheek. His face twists into confused discomfort. Good. “You wound me.”

He swats away her hand. “Just get rid of this stuff.”

Lup sighs and begins to rummage around in the fridge. He’s going to eat his words. And also a delicious dish.

She manages to find some pineapple— two whole pineapples, in fact. What the fuck, Kravitz?— and sets it on the counter. She pulls out a bottle of barbeque sauce, as well, figuring she can do  _ something  _ with it. Upon spotting a container of cherry tomatoes, she grabs them and lays them among the other ingredients she’s collected. Digging deeper, she finds a cardboard box of frozen shrimp. 

She can work with this. 

“Okay, Skeletor,” she asks, “are you ready for cooking lessons?”

-

Lup pushes the plate towards Kravitz. He looks up at her. There’s fear in his eyes.

“C’mon.” She nudges it further towards him. “Try it.”

“I’m scared.”

“Why? I’m a fantastic chef.”

“The more you say that, the more suspicious it sounds.”

“It’s good. I promise.” She glances down at the pineapple barbeque shrimp skewer sitting on the plate. Kravitz didn’t have skewers, so she had to cut slits into the ingredients and slide them onto the end of a fork. “I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s good.”

“Hm.”

“You helped make it, Krav.”

“I cut up some pineapple and then you insisted I was doing it wrong and took over.”

“Yeah, because you  _ were  _ doing it wrong. You suck and I’m a great cook. Eat the skewer.”

He sighs, plucks it off the plate, and takes a tentative bite. His face sours at first, but then his eyebrow twitches, his eyes squeeze shut, and his face goes through a few different expressions simultaneously before morphing into approval. “Oh,” he says. “This is— this is— this isn’t bad at all, actually.” 

“Hell yeah it isn’t.”

He takes another bite. “I forgot how good real food tastes. Like, non-summoned, non-pizza roll or pizza roll adjacent food.”

“Mm, no, not all real food tastes like this. Just my food. My delicious, masterfully prepared food.”

Lup reaches for the platter of skewers on the counter and takes one for herself. This, she realizes, will also be her first non-summoned, non-pizza roll or pizza roll adjacent meal since her death. It better be good, she decides, or she’s gonna be pissed.

Lup takes a bite and it’s— okay, by her standards, but also really fuckin’ good. It’s not the best thing she’s ever eaten and she knows she could do better, but being in the umbrella for a decade nearly made her forget how passionate she is about food. She loves everything about it— loves cooking, loves experimenting, loves the result, loves thinking of ways to do better, loves failing, loves succeeding, loves the memories associated with each dish. Her mind is already buzzing with a million other different things she could do with the ingredients in Kravitz’s fridge. 

“Would I win  _ Cutthroat Kitchen?” _ she asks.

Kravitz shrugs. “Yeah,” he replies, reaching for another skewer, “but you’d only win, like, a hundred dollars.”

“Oh, Ghost Rider. You underestimate both my frugality and my desire for riches.”

“It’s not about that. It’s about spite. You use the money to fuck with other people. You love that.”

“I love cash more.”

“Do you?”   


She opens her mouth to respond, but hesitates. _ Does  _ she value money over spite? “... Yes.”

“I heard a pause.”

“I’m just thinking of all the ways I can use twenty-five grand to further ruin your afterlife.”

“Well, you’ve managed to do it without spending anything so far.”

“I know,” she shrugs. “I’m a genius.”

He kicks her under the table. She kicks him back.

Lup tries to suppress a grin, but a smile spreads across her face nonetheless. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all!! here's a little bit of a break from arcs after finishing crystal kingdom before we move on. a bit of a lunar interlude, if u will. i will warn y'all: since krav and lup weren't involved in eleventh hour and because it was only 45 minutes from their perspective, there won't be a whole lot directly involving that arc. apologies :( however!!! i promise next chapter is gonna have a Lot. get pumped! get excited!!  
> anyways. how are y'all? i hope this chapter finds you well!! personally im about to start an online class this summer to get some credits out of the way and i do not know which book i am supposed to get and no one is responding to my emails. i am dying here. this class is next week! shipping is not that fast, folks!!!  
> okay. anyways. again, i hope y'all are good!! thanks for reading!!!!!  
> next chapter: kravitz logs into Reaperbook. kravitz sees that thb has gained 11 deaths each in the span of 45 minutes. kravitz logs out of Reaperbook  
> tumblr: nillial


	9. Little Sister

Lup has, once again, wormed her way into working a bounty with Kravitz, and, once again, she’s convinced him to let her fight.

Granted, it was easier this time than it was on the first field mission she attended— obviously, he’s seen her incredible magic skills and has come to the conclusion that she is just too amazing at what she does to be pushed to the sidelines. That, or he doesn’t want to deal with her complaining. Either way, she’s slinging spells at dead guys, so she’s happy.

Kravitz, whose skeletal hands wield a scythe, is maneuvering his way through the three death criminals and their summoned helpers with ease, weaving between the enemy’s attacks. Lup utilizes spells of her own, shooting off Scorching Rays and Fire Balls and the occasional (admittedly unnecessary) Flame Strike. Her magic scorches the cloaks they wear, leaving gaping holes in the thick fabric they’re composed of. The sandy ground of the desert shows no sign of damage, although some of the plant life in the area, however sparse, is burnt to a crisp. Death criminals, she’s noticed, always pick the loneliest, most remote locations to do their work in. If Lup was still practicing necromancy— or, at least, still  _ openly  _ practicing necromancy, since she does do a few spells here and there just to see if she still can— she’d do her magic in the middle of town. It’s hiding plain sight, it provides a little show for the other townsfolk,  _ and  _ it allows multiple escape routes. Besides, it’d be easy to blend in among the crowd, provided the ridiculous robes get ditched. These necromancers aren’t even wearing  _ cool  _ robes. It just looks like they draped a black blanket over themselves, sewed a hood to the back, and called it a day. Why study such an inherently dramatic magic if you’re not even going to dress the part?

They work in tandem to exhaust the death criminals. Eventually, they tire and slow down, which provides Kravitz with enough opportunity to swing his scythe at one of them. A light exits their body and vanishes nearly immediately through the soul-transporting portal that opens and closes at the scythe’s command. Their body slumps to the ground, vacant.

Lup, too, summons her scythe, although she knows that the most she’ll be able to do is boink people on the head with it. Nevertheless, the death criminals don’t know that she doesn’t exactly understand how to reap nor take her reaper form, and the scythe is a useful intimidation tool. Besides, boinking people on the head can be useful, too. Being hit with a scythe hurts.

Lup casually drags her scythe behind her, leaving a long line through the sand. Upon approaching a death criminal, she uses the blade of her scythe to corner them into Kravitz’s range, and, before she knows it, the second necromancer has been reaped. The two of them turn to the one death criminal left, who backs away slowly, magic at their fingertips. Two against one. 

Kravitz sighs, raises his scythe, and approaches.

The necromancer retaliates by shooting off spell after spell. Most hit Kravitz, which she nearly laughs about until she’s pushed back by a force she doesn’t see coming, tripping over her feet before she steadies herself and feels a sharp twinge of pain in her shoulder. Motherfucker. She hits them in the ankle with a Fire Ball, if only to get back at them. 

The necromancer hops from side to side, clutching their foot. They attempt to charge a spell in their free hand, but begin to lose balance and return their hand back to their wounded ankle. Kravitz uses the opportunity to advance on them. With a quick slice of his scythe, he reaps them, the bright white light of their soul vanishing almost as quickly as it appears. Kravitz, in turn, summons his clipboard, scratches something down, and dismisses it. Paperwork for later. 

Lup clasps her hands together and strides toward him. “Yet another three souls in ghost jail,” she says. “That’ll be five thousand gold for my services.”

Kravitz, dusting off his cloak, rolls his eyes. “You’re not getting five thousand gold, Lup.”

“You drive a hard bargain. I’ll shave off five gold. Consider it a one-time only discount.”

“You can have twenty percent of the payout.”

_ “Twenty percent?  _ Do you know how many spell slots I just used up? Give me fifty percent.”

“It’s my bounty. I let you tag along. Thirty.”

“I did all the damage. Forty-five.”

“I did all the reaping. Thirty-five.”

“That’s not fair! I don’t know how to reap yet!”   


“Not my problem.”

“You’re literally supposed to train me. Like, that’s your job.”

“Fine,” he says. “Thirty-five percent  _ and  _ I teach you how to reap.”

She reaches out a hand for him to shake. “Deal.”

He takes her outstretched hand warily and offers her a quick shake. 

Lup swivels around on her heel, kicking sand in every direction. She thinks she hears Kravitz sputtering from behind her. “So, where to next? Can’t learn reaping if there’s no one to reap.” 

He sighs and summons his book, flipping through its pages until he settles on a bounty he finds satisfactory. He snaps it shut. It dissipates into the dry desert air. “A lone bounty with a death count of three. Once we get there, you’re gonna have to wait and let me explain reaping to you first. It’s not easy. Got it?”

“Deffo,” she says. “Can we go kick ass now?”

He takes out his scythe and makes a quick, downward slice, opening a swirling rift. “You know,” he says, “I haven’t seen anything about new death crimes for your brother and his friends. I think things are going pretty well.”

“Told you all those deaths were accidental.” 

He snorts. “Yeah, let's just hope that they don’t commit any more  _ accidental  _ death crimes.”

-

Taako has died eleven times today.

He’s watched as the ground below his feet cracked open and swallowed him whole, and he’s felt buildings crumble over his head, and he’s been blown up by dynamite  _ multiple _ times. He’s felt the trickle of blood down his face and tasted copper in his mouth more times than he would consider ideal. He remembers, too vividly, the jarring feeling of going from ache and pain and all-consuming fear to nothingness to a dry desert breeze and Refuge’s gates. Taako’s exhausted.

And tumbling out of a flying metal cart doesn’t make it any better.

The three of them skid across the sand until they finally come to a halt. Taako, with some difficulty, flops onto his back, and—  _ Shit. _

Overhead is the silhouette of the purple worm, sailing through the sky above, blocking out the sun and casting a shadow over its surroundings. It crashes to the ground, sending out a ripple across the desert floor. Taako grips the dirt on instinct, as if it will do him any good.

The worm, as soon as it hits the ground, swivels towards Taako, Magnus, and Merle and prepares to spit a fireball in their direction. Before it can, though, he feels a tremor in the ground beneath him and watches as three smaller purple worms rise from the sand. They speed towards their mother, who roars appreciatively and squeezes them close to her. Once her children are in her grip, she lifts her head and burrows away.

Taako, ignoring the ache consuming his body, rises to his feet. As the ringing in his ears clears, he hears Magnus say something to Avi, but he doesn’t respond. Avi, instead, is unmoving and still, frozen in terror. Magnus slaps him more times than what is probably necessary, but Avi still doesn’t budge. Instead, the outline of his body begins to emanate a soft red glow, nearly invisible at first, but growing in intensity until its a searing crimson light that he has to shield his eyes from.

Somehow, Taako knows where this is going.

The Red Robe emerges from behind Avi. Before anyone can say anything, he raises a skeletal finger to his lips, waves his free hand, and the bright blue Stones of Farspeech around their necks dim.  _ DID YOU RETRIEVE THE CUP? _ he asks, his voice gravelly and grating, as it always is.

“Yes,” replies Magnus.

_ WHAT DID YOU CHANGE? _

Taako, Magnus, and Merle all look at one another. “Nothing,” Magnus says.

At that, the Red Robe pauses.  _ YOU DIDN’T USE THE CUP? _

They all confirm that they did not, in fact, use the cup. The Red Robe’s shoulders seem to slacken. He lets out a sigh. _ I’M REALLY PROUD OF YOU, _ he says.  _ I THOUGHT THERE WAS A CHANCE THAT MAYBE THIS WOULD BE THE ONE TO END YOUR ADVENTURE. _

As much as he wants to clear his name, regain his fame, and not have to worry about anyone turning him in and leaving him to rot in prison, Taako didn’t take the Chalice. In fact, the moment with the Chalice was, in part, a sort of liberating experience for him— he learned that the deaths of 40 Glamour Springs citizens wasn’t his fault after all and instead the fault of his assistant, who was trying to kill him, meaning Taako can finally take “accidental mass murderer” off his resume  _ and  _ brag about surviving an attempt on his life. A victory all around.

There was one thing, however, that gave him pause. One thing that didn’t— and still doesn’t— sit right with him.

Before showing him Glamour Springs, June paused on a different scene: the battlewagon race, right before Taako dropped his umbrella.

Taako had looked at her and she must have been able to read both his confusion and its cause, because then she said, _ “I think you liked that umbrella.” _ And, then, _ “I think it was more important to you than you want to admit.” _

_ “It’s a fucking umbrella,” _ Taako had responded. 

But she was right, in a way— there’s a part of him that misses it more than he should. He just can’t understand why.

Magnus’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “Wait— you’re proud of— hold on, you’re the Red Robe, right? You’re one of the bad guys.”

Taako notices the smallest flicker of red electricity jolting through the Red Robe’s body.  _ WHO TOLD YOU THAT?  _ he asks, and he almost sounds  _ sad. _

The three of them begin to tell him— The Bureau, The Director, Fantasy TMZ— but the Red Robe cuts them off.  _ I NEED TO KNOW— DO YOU TRUST ME? _

Taako trusts very few people, so fuck if he’s going to trust a ghost who made a bunch of evil relics. He expresses his concerns, as does the rest of the group, and the red electricity he saw before begins to spread, the shocks growing increasingly more violent. His movements become erratic, the red volts of energy reaching farther and farther until eventually one whips out towards Magnus, who successfully, albeit narrowly, dodges it. The Red Robe, in turn, falls to his knees. As he begins to mutter to himself, the electricity surrounding him gradually diminishes into sparks. Taako strains his ears to hear what he’s saying, and it doesn’t sound like the labored whisper he always speaks with. Instead, it’s a man’s voice, and he’s saying, “Lup, they don’t trust me. I can’t do it anymore, Lup, I’m sorry.”

Lup.

_ Lup. _

Like the Grim Reaper Lup? Like the identity thief Lup?

The Red Robe rises once again. With his voice returned to the constrained hiss he always uses, he tells them,  _ THE NEXT TIME WE MEET, I NEED YOU TO TRUST ME COMPLETELY AND ABSOLUTELY. OTHERWISE, ALL OF THIS WILL HAVE BEEN FOR NOTHING. THE HUNGER IS ALMOST HERE. AND WHEN IT ARRIVES, THIS WORLD WILL BE LOST. _

And then he’s gone.

-

“You’re not doing it right.”

“I’m sorry if it’s hard for me to melt my own skin off.”

“It’s not even real skin, Lup.”

“That’s somehow worse.”

Kravitz pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. We’ll try again. Close your eyes and imagine your flesh—”

“This is gross, Krav,” she complains.

“Fine. Imagine your flesh  _ disappearing  _ to reveal the bone underneath. Imagine your hair setting aflame. Imagine every aspect of your physical exterior vanishing and in its place imagine your skeleton. Once you’ve taken your reaper form, you’ll be able to reap souls by summoning your scythe and channeling your magic into it.”

“Have I told you how much you sound like a guided meditation session when you’re explaining these things to me? I feel like I don’t make fun of you enough for that.”

_ “Lup.” _

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay, I’ll melt my skin.”

Lup squeezes her eyes shut and tries to visualize herself morphing into her reaper form. She’s seen Kravitz do it— how his flesh melts away until he’s only bone, how the hair on his head burns into ash which, in turn, morph into the raven feathers that comprise the high collar of his cloak, how each swing of his scythe always seems heavier, more charged. She attempts to imagine that for herself— her own skin melting, her own skeleton, her own high-collared cloak, the slice of her own scythe— but it doesn’t seem to work. She peeks one eye open and realizes, with some disappointment, that her body is very much intact. 

She closes her eyes once again. She’s Lup. She’s fought the apocalypse. She can do this.

Lup tries to feel what it’d be like, tries to remember the rotted flesh and bone that came with her lich form, tries to find the magic in her veins and expose it. Instead of simply imagining herself in her reaper form, she tries to feel the process. Eventually, she feels something dripping down her face.

“Am I doing it?” she whispers.

_ “Shh,”  _ Kravitz replies.

She feels the weight of her hair lift as well as the skin on her body droop further and further until it falls. Behind her, she feels her cloak growing longer, the fabric gathering around her ankles. When she dares to open her eyes, she’s nothing but bone. 

Lup admires her skeletal arm, turning it over, examining it. It’s much cleaner than her lich form was— no hanging skin, no signs of rot, no fractures or dirt, nothing that makes her look like she dug herself straight out of a grave. Still, it’s effective at achieving its purpose: looking cool and scaring people. “This is badass.”

“And now,” he says, “you can summon your scythe.”

Lup does so gladly. Her scythe appears in her grip moments later. 

“Alright. Now channel your magic.”

She tightens her grasp, searches for the innate magic lying inside of her, and—

And then Kravitz’s book manifests in front of him, its pages flipping to their next bounty. He reaches for it.

Lup does a few slices with her scythe, if only to show off. “Where we goin’, Ghost Rider? I’m about to become Employee of the Year in a single day.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, his face contorts into something between anger and annoyance. He snaps the book shut. “We,” he says through gritted teeth, “are going to pay a visit to your friends.”

-

Lup steps through a portal and finds herself in an apartment not too unlike Kravitz’s— a relatively similar setup, except much messier. There are stray wrappers and bags scattered across the floor, trash in piles, and cloaks and jackets  tossed on the back of the chairs while the coat hook next to the door stays empty. Besides that, there’s a ficus in the corner with a skimpy thong around its roots. Reminds her of home. 

She kicks aside an empty cardboard box. “What’d they do?”

“Each of their death counts rose by eleven in a matter of  _ minutes. _ ” He plops onto the couch, arms crossed. “Explain that to me, Lup. Explain how that’s accidental.”

“I…” She tries to find the words, but can’t. They aren’t invulnerable anymore, which is frightening in itself, so she doesn’t know how they each managed to die and resurrect themselves eleven times. “I don’t know.”

His glare narrows. 

There’s the squeaking of a door opening. From the doorway, she hears, “Someday you’ll be useful, old friend.” followed by Taako’s silhouette gently hanging a cloak on the coat rack, which, given the state of the room, she doesn’t understand why he bothers. He flicks the lights on and, upon turning around, notices the two Grim Reapers in his living room.

“Well, we need to talk, don’t we?” says Kravitz in that dumb work accent. “‘Cause you boys…” He pauses to suck in a breath, trying to hide his irritation. “You’ve added quite a bit to your death count, haven’t you?”

Taako shrugs. “That one’s on me. Hey, quick question: Why’d you bring your skeleton friend with you?”

“Oh. Um…” Kravitz turns towards her. “Could you, um…”

“You taught me how to go into reaper form. Not how to get out of it.”

“It’s— it’s easy. It’s like willing away your scythe. Like, just stop being in your reaper form.”

“That doesn’t help me.”

“You’re ruining my dramatic introduction.”   


“It isn’t really dramatic, Kravitz, you just sat on a couch in the dark—”

“It was! It was dramatic! And now it’s ruined. Thanks.”

“This is very fun to watch,” Taako interjects, “but I would like to see you stop being a skeleton.”

She sighs. She closes her eyes shut and tries to apply Kravitz’s scythe advice, dropping the concentration on her reaper form not unlike she would drop concentration on a spell, and, when she opens her eyes, she’s back to normal. 

“Oh,” says Taako, “it’s you! And you’re still using my face for your nefarious deeds. What’s up, Lady Who Stole My Face?”

“Mm, not much. What’s up with that thing?” She gestures to the half-rotted apple slice that’s been nailed to the wall.

He shrugs. “Magnus was carpenting. You know how it is.” 

Lup does know how it is, somehow.

Kravitz, his arms crossed and his posture weirdly straight for someone sitting on a couch, interrupts. “Are you going to explain how you died eleven times, or…” 

“Oh, right.” He sits himself down next to Kravitz and pats the cushion beside him for Lup. “Come on. Let me tell you my tale.”

Lup obliges, settling in next to him. Being next to him again is more gratifying than she’d like to admit. 

Taako tells them of the town of Refuge, and of the bubble shielding it from time itself, and of the clay sheriff protecting them. He tells them of its citizens, forced to repeat each hour with no memory nor knowledge of the violent deaths creeping up on them. He tells them of Ren, the young woman who owns the bar, and of Cassidy, the jailed miner turned mayor, and of Paloma, the scone-conjuring prophet. He tells them of the purple worm that destroyed everything in pursuit of her children and of the puzzle laden with traps that killed them quite a few times. He tells them of Istus, who offered them her blessing in exchange for joining her retinue and who gave them each a gift, and he tells them how his gift was a box he couldn’t even open so he’s  _ pretty  _ annoyed. He tells them of Sheriff Isaac, and of Jack and June, and of the Temporal Chalice. Finally, he tells them of how they saved Refuge. Istus restored the town to normal time in a matter of moments, the purple worm left with her children, and the three of them went back to the moon base.

After he finishes, Lup realizes her fingers have been gripping the arm of the couch the entire time. She quickly relaxes, but not before she notices the crescent-shaped nail marks pressed into the fabric, perhaps permanently judging by how deep they go. Upon noticing the hoodie sticking out between the cushions, she takes its sleeve and discreetly covers it up. Whoops.

The Temporal Chalice is Magnus’s relic. He visited Refuge a long, long time ago and gave them it as thanks for their hospitality. She hadn’t heard anything about them since. 

By the end of his story, Kravitz is staring into the space ahead of him with his chin resting in his hands, his brow furrowed. He releases a long, drawn-out sigh before finally saying, “Hmm.”

Taako props his feet on the coffee table in front of them. “Are you gonna murder me now?”

At the same time Lup tells him no, Kravitz insists that he’s “not a murderer”, fooling no one. Then, he explains, “I’m going to have to talk to the Raven Queen about this. I’d need to get your deaths and the deaths of those townsfolk cleared, which might be a problem, given that those townsfolk have died over 60,000 times  _ and  _ I already had to convince her once to clear your crimes.”

“Tell her Istus loves me,” Taako says.

Kravitz nods thoughtfully. “She and Istus  _ are  _ pretty tight.”

He leans back in his seat. “I’m about to become the favorite of all of the gods.”

Kravitz opens his mouth to object, but, before he can, Lup shakes her head at him. Instead, he clears his throat, straightens his tie, and stands. “Well,” he says, “we’d better be on our way, then.”

“Aw, what?” says Lup. “We just got here!”

His expression shifts into something— apologetic, she thinks. He understands how important Taako is to her, but he also understands that Taako has no idea who Lup is and it’d be difficult to find a reason for her to spend more time with him other than for business reasons, except they now have no more business to attend to. She nearly apologizes and rises from the couch herself when he says, “Maybe we should attune our Stones. You know, so we won’t have to visit you out of nowhere.”

“You mean break into my dorm?” asks Taako.

“That too,” says Kravitz.

Taako shrugs and pulls out his Stone of Farspeech from his pants pocket. “Alright, Addams Family. You can have Taako’s frequency. Use it wisely.”

Lup and Kravitz both produce their own Stones and hold it next to Taako’s. Each of them glow and emit a small humming noise, meaning they’ve successfully been attuned. Taako quickly pulls his away and begins pressing the Stone’s runes.

“What are you, um…” Kravitz strains his neck to peek at Taako’s Stone. “What are you doing?”   


“Changing your contact names,” he responds. “Lup, your name is Face-Stealer. You will most definitely be getting a call from my lawyers at some point, so be prepared for that. Kravitz, your name is Casper.”   


“You could use our actual names.”   


“No.” Taako shoves his Stone of Farspeech back into his pocket, then folds his hands over his lap. “I’m not gonna tell Magnus or Merle about this, just in case you  _ do  _ reap us. I want it to be a surprise for them, you know?”

“We aren’t gonna reap you,” says Lup. 

Kravitz gives her a look and adds, “Probably.”

_ “Kravitz,”  _ she hisses under her breath.

“I’m just saying.”

“Stop saying, then.”

“There’s a possibility the Raven Queen won’t listen to me.”

“She’ll listen.”

“You weren’t there when I had to tell her that I freed the guy who died 57 times without any good explanation. I’m never going to hear the end of that, Lup.”

“You have a good explanation this time.”

“Did you not hear me when I said those townspeople died over 60,000 times?”

Taako clears his throat. “You guys good?”

Kravitz, visibly embarrassed, turns back to Taako. “We’re good.” He holds out a palm and his scythe materializes within it. “Should we go, Lup?”

Lup is inside of the moon base. She’s inside of the moon base, able to speak, able to walk around, able to see and interact with the people she had seen from the confines of the umbrella. She’s inside of the moon base, a place she’s been itching to go to since she was first freed. She can’t waste this.

“Wait.” She turns her attention to Taako. “Where’s Lucretia— The Director?”

He tilts his head to one side. “Am I my boss’s keeper?”   
_ “Taako.” _

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. She’s prob’ly in her office. It’s in the middle of the big dome. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” she tells him. Amid Kravitz’s protests, she rushes out the door and down the hallway. 

Lup sprints across the quad until she arrives at the double doors leading into the main dome of the moon base, pushing past Bureau employees and into the building. She runs across the tiled floors, not knowing where she’s going, ignoring the confused stares, and the shouts, and the chatter that follows her. She’s going to see Lucretia. She’s going to see Lucretia. She’s going to see Lucretia.   


She’s going to see Lucretia.

Lup skids to a halt in front of tall, decorated double doors, adorned with a plaque that reads The Director. With no hesitation, she shoves them open.

Lucretia— older, different, and there, right in front of her, for the first time in so, so long— glances up from the papers on her desk. And then she glances up again.

Shock and joy and sadness spread across her face. In a trembling voice that reminds her so much of the younger Lucretia, she asks, “Lup?”

Lup remains in the doorway.

Lucretia begins breathlessly sputtering out years worth of apologies— _ I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you don’t need to forgive me, you never need to forgive me, but I’m sorry, Lup, I’m sorry—  _ but Lup doesn’t hear it. Not really. She can’t hear it past the blood rushing through her ears and the dizzying emptiness of her head, past her shaking body, past the speechlessness that grips her throat despite all the things she needs to say. She’s been rehearsing this moment in her head for a long, long time, but now that she’s confronted with reality, she doesn’t know where to start. What can she say, after all that’s happened? What can she do?

Lup strides over to where Lucretia sits and pulls her into a tight hug.

Lucretia’s apologies cease abruptly and instead culminate in tears. She sobs into her shoulder.

Lup cries, too.

-

Taako leans back in his seat and watches Lup run out of the dorm and into the hallway. The lady who is somehow connected to the Red Robe is leaving to speak with the Director, whose mission involves destroying weapons created by the Red Robes. He’s half-tempted to spy on their conversation with a scrying spell and gain some information that would surely answer several of his questions, but, alas, spell slots.

Besides, he’s got a guest. 

“Lup!” Kravitz yells. “Lup, where are you going? Lup! Lup, you—” She disappears around the corner. He resigns himself to defeat with a quiet, “Okay.”

Kravitz hesitantly turns to face him, then offers him an awkward wave. 

Taako nods in acknowledgement. “Casper.”

“My name’s not Casper.”

“That’s not what my Stone says.” He pats the seat next to him. “Come on. Sit down, kemosabe.”

Kravitz pauses, then shuffles over to the couch and gently lowers himself into the chair. He sits stiffly, spending the next few moments in silence, before saying, “Uh, about the Miller’s Lab—”

“Aw, it's no biggie,” he tells him, waving his hand dismissively.   


“I almost killed you.”

“I have a lot of pals who almost killed me. It’s not a new thing.”

“I made your friend cut off your other friend’s arm.”

“Was that you? Honestly, I thought Magnus just did that for fun. He has a thing for cutting off arms.” 

“I tried to reap your soul.”

“You’re the Grim Reaper! It’s your thing.”

Kravitz’s shoulders lose their tension, but he doesn’t seem thoroughly convinced. “Are you sure?”

“No,” says Taako. “I will never forget this betrayal and neither will you. I’ll spend every minute of my extended life making sure you regret every single sin you ever committed, every mistake you made, every movement you dare to make. And when I finally die, finally, just when you think you’re free, I’ll drag you down with me. When you’re not seeing me in your nightmares, you’ll spend every waking moment of every day asking yourself, ‘Why would I ever, ever fuck over Taako?’”

Kravitz laughs nervously.

“I’m serious.”

His nervous laughter stops.

After letting him stew for a few seconds, Taako punches him in the shoulder and goes, “I’m just joshin’. I really don’t give a shit. Do you like tea?” 

-

Lucretia pulls out a chair for Lup and gives her some tea— no milk and a little sugar, like she always takes it. Neither of them know what to say.

Finally, Lucretia breaks the silence. “I looked for you.”

Lup offers her a smile. “I figured.”

“I— I couldn’t find you. I wanted to find you. I spent so long trying to find you.”

“I was hard to find, to be fair.”

“No, you weren’t. You shouldn’t have been. I should have looked harder, but Barry and Taako searched so much and you still hadn’t come back and…” She takes a deep breath, but her next words still come out shaky. “I thought you had lost yourself.”

Something tugs at Lup’s heart. It makes sense— she was separated from the rest of her family, miserable, and grappling with the knowledge that her relic killed thousands and would kill thousands more. It'd be easy to lose herself. Had things gone any worse, she might have. “Oh.” ‘Oh’ is all she can say.

Lucretia sighs. “Where were you, Lup?”

“I was trapped,” she tells her. “I was inside of the umbrella.”

At that, Lucretia nearly jumps out of her chair.  _ “What?” _

“I was killed in Wave Echo Cave and the Umbrastaff took my soul. In hindsight, it may have been a bad idea to turn into a lich and then make a lich-eating weapon.”

“Oh my God. Oh my  _ God.” _ Lucretia presses her fingers to her temples. “You were right there. You were right there the whole time. Could you— could you see? Could you hear?”

“Yeah. It took a while to regain my external senses, but yeah. Taako broke the Umbrastaff, I escaped, and I’ve been trying to find a way here since.”

“Lup, I’m so sorry. I should’ve known.” She sighs into her hands. “Oh, Lup. Why aren’t you a lich? How’d you get here?”

“Funny story.” She takes a sip of her tea. It’s still too hot, but she drinks it anyway. “Do you know about reapers? Because this plane has reapers.”

“I’ve read a little about them,” she says. “They kill necromancers?”   


“Yes! Yes, they kill necromancers! God, please tell my buddy that. Anyways, one reaped me before I could get to Taako, Magnus, and Merle, but the Raven Queen said I couldn’t enter the Sea of Souls because I was intertwined in the fate of the universe, and now I’m a reaper. My reaper friend chased the three of them down a while ago because they died so many times.”

“Our deaths back then carried over to here?”

“Mhmm. I convinced him not to reap them, but they died again in Refuge, so…” She shrugs. “Here we are.”

“Well…” Lucretia takes a deep breath, folding her hands in her lap. “Huh.”

“Yeah.” She lifts the tea cup to her mouth.

“We have a lot to catch up on,” she says.

Lup laughs into her tear.  _ “I _ have a lot to catch up on. You’ve been out here. I’ve been in an umbrella.”

Lucretia averts her gaze and shifts uncomfortably. “Listen, Lup, I—”

Lup interrupts her. “You didn’t know I was in there, ‘Cretia. It’s okay. That was a mess I got myself into. But, um, I was wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“You were always eighteen at the beginning of the cycle, right? And a little more than a decade’s passed?

She smiles. “You’re wondering how I got so old.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“It’s fine, Lup.” She doesn’t meet her eyes. “It has to do with a relic.”

“What? How?”

“One of them had fallen to some twin liches who demanded sacrifices. I gave up a lot. Memories, sentimental objects, information… time.” She sighs. “I didn’t get the relic back.” 

Lup draws her brow and sets her cup on the table in front of her. “I don’t know if we’re ready to have all of the relics yet. I don’t know if we’re ready for the Hunger.”

“We’ll never be ready.”

“We struggled when we were together. What are we going to do when half of us have forgotten each other?”

Lucretia casts her gaze away in shame. Even after all her time in the umbrella, Lup doesn’t know whether or not she wants Lucretia to feel ashamed. On one hand, her brother doesn’t remember her, which is the deepest pain she’s ever felt— on the other, Lup, too, attempted to take the relics out of circulation a long time ago. The only difference is that Lucretia hasn’t gotten herself killed. “I’ll bring their memories back when the time comes.”

“When will that be?”

“When it’s done.”

She doesn’t need to ask what ‘it’ is. She already knows. She also knows she can’t convince her to stop.

“Where’s Barry?” she asks.

Lucretia’s expression softens. There’s guilt in her eyes. “I don’t know. But I know that he’s okay.”

Relief floods her senses. She lets herself relax, if only a little. Although the Book let her know that Barry hadn’t yet been captured by reapers, confirmation that he’s both out there  _ and  _ still Barry means so much. “I miss him,” she confesses, her voice weaker than she’d like it to be. “I miss all of them.”

Lucretia takes a trembling breath in. “I did this because they were miserable. I did this so I could take on the sorrow, and the worry, and the responsibility. If I had known you’d be caught in the middle— if I had known you’d be miserable, too—”

“I know,” says Lup. 

“I wish I had found another way.”

“I know.”

There’s a moment of silence between them. “I’m sorry,” Lucretia tells her, her voice soft and quiet and barely there.

Lup glances up from her lap to look her in the face. When she does, she sees her little sister. Her little sister, with too-big glasses and too much talent and too much love for her heart. Her little sister, scared and sad and alone.

“I know,” Lup tells her. “I know.”

-

Taako transmutes water into tea, just because he can do that again.

He walks over to where Kravitz sits and sets their respective mugs on the coffee table— one that reads _ FUTURE MRS. MARIO LOPEZ  _ and another that reads  _ COFFEE IS MY DAYTIME WINE!, _ both of which he bought from the discount section at Fantasy Costco— and flops down next him. “This is probably oolong.”

Kravitz, whose cup is halfway to his lips, asks, “Probably?”

“Most likely,” he tells him. “I haven’t transmuted food in a while. You know how it is.”

He eyes the cup warily, but takes a sip anyways. “It’s oolong.”

“Good to know.” Taako takes his own mug in his hands. “Could have been poison. Could have been cinnamon. Each is equally bad.”

“I like cinnamon tea.”

“Because it tastes like liquid death?”

“Because it tastes good.”

“Whatever you say.” Taako takes a long drink of his tea. Although a lingering fear remains that every food he transmutes will kill anyone who consumes it, that fear is squashed by the recent knowledge that his magic is, in fact, not responsible for the mass murder in Glamour Springs. Fucking Sazed. 

Taako glances up at the clock above the door. “Is she coming back?” he asks.

Kravitz shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. Who’s Lucretia?”

“My boss. Older lady. Carries around a staff. She once caught me shoplifting from Fantasy Costco and stole a tube of toothpaste off the shelf as a show of approval.”

“Why is she talking to her?”

“You tell me.” 

Kravitz draws his brow and grips his mug tight. “Hmm.”

Normally, Taako wouldn’t give a shit about anyone’s concern, but something in Kravitz’s expression tugs at his heartstrings. Taako didn’t even know he had heartstrings. 

He plucks Kravitz’s mug out of his hands, ignoring his yelp of “Hey!” and casts prestidigitation on the tea inside.

He hands it back to him. “It’s cinnamon now,” he says. “Since you have awful taste.”

He takes it gratefully, sips it, and smiles. “Thanks,” he says.

“Yeah.” Taako leans back against the arm of the couch. “You have one hour to drink that before it goes back to being oolong, by the way, so…” 

-

“You’re allowed to be angry with me, Lup,” says Lucretia. “I mean it.”

Lucretia  _ wants  _ her to be angry, Lup thinks— she wants her to yell and scream and cry and make sure she understands the gravity of all she’s done. She thinks she deserves it. Lup can tell. She’s seen the exact way the corners of Lucretia’s lips turn downward when she’s dejected, the way her brow furrows when she’s worried, the way her eyes dart around when she’s ashamed. Even after a decade without seeing her, the century living with her has cemented every aspect of her into Lup’s mind.

Lup  _ was  _ angry. She was alone and trapped and her own brother didn’t remember her. She couldn’t not be angry. She spent so much time rehearsing what she’d say to her, pacing around in the confines of the Umbrastaff, imagining what she’d do when she finally, finally got the chance to escape, but the more she spoke, the more she understood. “It’s okay, Lucretia.”

“No, it’s not. You know it’s not.”

She winces. “Well, maybe not  _ okay, _ but I get it. I really do.” Lup pauses for a moment in order to figure out how to articulate what she wants to say. “We had choices to make. I did what I thought was right and it ended up being this long, horrible massacre. You did what you thought was right and, you know, the consequences were… heavy. But those were the two options we had. They weren’t great options, but they were our options, and we had to choose one if we wanted to stop the Hunger.”   
Lucretia is silent. And, then, “You’re holding back. You don’t have to hold back. I understand if you can’t forgive me.”

“I’m not holding back, Lucretia. I regret what we did. I regret what you’re doing now. But there’s nothing else we can do. I mean, thousands of people died because of me, Lucretia, and I tried to fix it, too.” She leans back against her chair and stares out of the window leading out of the office. The sky outside is dotted with stars. “The only reason I was in Wave Echo Cave was because I was trying to hide that fucking gauntlet. It didn’t work very well. Obviously. And I was in the umbrella when I watched it take Phandalin— I saw the fire, and the destruction, and the fear on people’s faces, and I knew it was because of me. I saw Barry in the flesh for the first time in years. I watched him leave and not come back because my relic had killed him. There was a moment I thought Taako, Magnus, and Merle would die, too, and they don’t have the safety net that lichdom provides. If they died, they’d remain dead, and it would have been because of me. I would have killed my brother and my best friends.”

“Lup…” Lucretia begins to reach across the desk, then pulls her hand back. “It’s not your fault. You did—”

“— what I had to?” Lup finishes. “And what about you, Lucretia?”

She sighs. Buries her head in her hands. “They were miserable. Magnus would learn of a new fatality every day and he couldn’t stand it. He wanted to protect people, not hurt them. Davenport’s entire life was the mission and he didn’t know what to do anymore. Merle tried to be Merle, tried to keep positive, but everyone around him was exhausted and I think that took a toll on him, too.” She runs her palm down her face. “Taako and Barry looked for you relentlessly. They wouldn’t eat, they wouldn’t sleep, they just searched and searched and searched and I thought you had already lost yourself. The places they looked just kept getting more dangerous and I thought— I thought they’d eventually get themselves killed.”

Lup takes a deep breath inward. “I was angry at you,” she says. “There was a time when I was angry at you.”   


Lucretia looks up.

“For years,” Lup explains, “I was just stuck in that fucking umbrella. Just waiting. And when they finally, finally found me, they were so— different. I mean, they looked straight at me and they didn’t care. They saw me dead and they didn’t care. And they looked so happy, Lucretia. Older, different, but happy. Laughing about my dead body while I was forced to listen.

“And Merle came to pick me up, and I just— I pushed him away. I needed Taako. I had to know he knew who I was. I had to show him. But he didn’t care, Lucretia. Nobody cared. It was a fucking nightmare.

“And then they were taken here, and I saw you. You were so much older, and you looked so different, but I knew it had to be you. And for weeks, I just stewed in there and thought about the stories you spun and the lies you told and all of the memories you erased. But I spent a lot of time in there, Lucretia, and the only thing to do when you’re in a nothingless void is think. And I think that when it comes down to it, you loved us. You wanted us to be happy.

“I mean, you know, obviously I want my brother back. I want my boyfriend back. I want my best friends back. I won’t be any sort of okay until everyone is back together and this plane is safe from the Hunger. But I know why you did it, Lucretia, and I understand, and I miss you so, so much.”   


Lucretia’s eyes brim with tears. “Are you sure you can forgive me?” she asks, her voice hoarse.

Lup offers her a smile. “Water under the bridge, babe.”

Lucretia rushes out of her seat, maneuvers around her desk, and wraps her arms around Lup in a hug. Lup hugs her back.

“I missed you,” Lucretia tells her, her voice a whisper.

Lup hugs her tighter. “I missed you, too.”

And they stay like that for a long, long time.

When they finally pull apart, Lucretia says, “Your hands are  _ so  _ cold.”

Lup laughs. Lucretia laughs, too.

-

Kravitz is having a good time.

Which is weird, because when he first met Lup, she made sure that he almost exclusively had a bad time. Taako and Lup are alike in so many ways, yet remain distinguishable in others. For example, Taako didn’t immediately vow to make him miserable upon first seeing him, so he’s already a step ahead of Lup in terms of likeability. 

“So, Kravitz,” Taako says after offering him a half-eaten bag of Skittles he found in his pocket (Kravitz took one, both out of politeness and because he loves Skittles— he’s pretty sure he swallowed some lint with it). “What’s your deal?”

“My… deal?” Kravitz asks. “I’m a reaper.”

“Come on. You gotta give me somethin’ better than that. You’re goth, you slurp up souls, I know this already.”

“I wouldn’t say I ‘slurp up souls.’”

“I would say you do.”

“Okay, well…” His deal. What is his deal? “I play piano.”

Taako narrows his eyes. “That’s it?”

“I…” He thinks he’s nervous. Why is he nervous? “I used to eat cans of Fancy Feast because I thought it was for people.”

There’s a brief silence between them, and then Taako enters a fit of laughter. Kravitz, too, can’t help but giggle— at himself, at Taako, at everything. 

“What, like, you thought it was SPAM?” Taako asks him once he’s calmed down enough. “You put it in sandwiches? The cat on the label didn’t make you think?”

“I thought the cat was a cute mascot,” he explains. “Like the Frosted Flakes tiger.”

“What did it taste like?”

“Salt and starch. I’ve had worse.”

“I wish I could say I don’t know the feeling,” Taako says, “but I’ve had my fair share of wet pet food, myself.”

“And?”

“Freshpet is my favorite,” he tells him. “Tastes like cold meatloaf.”

Kravitz snorts. Taako flashes him a crooked grin in response.

He doesn’t think he minds if Lup needs to talk to Lucretia a little longer.

-

“Lucretia, I— I have to ask,” Lup says, after a few moments of comfortable quiet, “are you going to collect the last relic?”

Confusion crosses Lucretia’s face, along with a hint of fear. “Yes,” she says. “I am.”   


“When will that be?” 

She takes a deep breath. “Soon.”

Lup was afraid she’d say that.

“The Hunger will descend,” she tells her. “It’s on its way. We’re not ready.”

Lucretia pushes herself away from her desk and casts her gaze to the side. “All I need to do is cast my spell,” she says. “Once I do that, it’ll be done.”

“You’ll sever the bonds here. You’ll cut off the Prime Material Plane from everything else.”

She winces. 

“Lucretia,” she says, “it won’t work the way you want it to.”   


“But it’ll work the way we  _ need  _ it to,” she counters. “We need the relics out of circulation. We need people to stop getting hurt because of us. We need the Hunger gone forever. I know you want that, too.”

Lup sighs. “Yeah. I do.”

“They’ll be safe,” says Lucretia, small, quiet. “Everyone will be safe.”   


“I don’t—” She doesn’t know what they should do, but she knows that cutting off this plane’s ties to every other plane will only create misery. It’ll backfire. “I don’t think you should do this.”

Lucretia closes her eyes and she looks— tired. “It’s too late. The Hunger’s already here. It’s always been here.” She gestures to the window, and, sure enough, Lup sees the signs of its presence. Anyone else wouldn’t notice, but they’re there: the darkening of the sky, the threat of a storm that doesn’t come, the vibrant green leaching out of the grass and rendering it dull. One could chalk it up to an early winter settling in, but Lup knows better. She’s seen it a hundred times. She hoped never to see it again. 

Lucretia turns toward her. Her exhaustion visibly weighs her down. “What choice do we have?” she asks, defeated.

Lup doesn’t know. She wishes she knew. 

Still, she presses her luck. “There’s another Voidfish, isn’t there?”

At that, Lucretia’s eyes widen. “You know about that?”

“It’s the only way to explain how they still can’t remember us after drinking Fisher’s ichor,” she tells her. “Where is it?”

“I— I can’t tell you.”

“You can,” she says. “We could go through this together. All of us.”

She’s quiet for a minute. What Lup has just described is unattainable— a musing for two people who have been alone for years to share and to fantasize about. Something that won’t happen. This plan is her priority and she’s not going to jeopardize it. 

“They’d stop me,” Lucretia argues, voicing something the both of them already know. “I have to do this. It’s this or more death and more misery and more of the Hunger looming over us each and every day.”

“Lucretia, I—” She releases a drawn-out sigh. “We fought and we sacrificed and we died over and over again for years. We deserve some peace, but I don’t think this is how we’re going to obtain it.”

Lucretia stares at the floor. “I tried. I tried to give them all peace.” And, then, looking up, meeting her eyes, she asks her, “When the time comes, are you going to stop me?”   


Lucretia deserves the truth, so Lup gives her the truth: “Yes,” she tells her. “I think I am.”

She nods, slow and quiet and casual, as if Lup had just told her she was headed to the store and not that she was going to stop her plan years in the making. 

“I wish this was over,” says Lup, prompted by nothing. 

She purses her lips thin. “I do, too.”

After another moment of silence between the two of them, Lup stands and offers Lucretia one last hug, which she accepts. “I should go,” she tells her over her shoulder. “My buddy’s waiting for me and he’s my ride back to Hell.”

She laughs, albeit quiet and heavy. “You like it there?” she asks.

“Mm, it’s a big office building, so it sucks. But it’s got what I need— snacks that don’t belong to me, other people’s couches to nap on, and people to make regret knowing me.” 

Lucretia laughs again, and it’s a little clearer this time. She pats her on the back gently. It reminds her of an earlier time, back on the Starblaster, when everyone was together and Lucretia could be Lup’s little sister. “Maybe I could visit someday.” A promise she can’t fulfill, especially if she plans on using her shield. 

“Maybe,” Lup says anyway. She finally breaks away from Lucretia’s grasp and heads for the door leading out of her office.

She reaches for the doorknob, and then Lucretia says, “This will work.”

Lup turns back around to face her.

“This will— this will work,” she continues. “I’m sorry for what I did, and I know it won’t be ideal, but this will work. I promise it will work.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “It has to work.”

Lup offers a small smile. “I’ll see you later, ‘Cretia.”

And then she steps out of the door and into the hallway.

-

Lup comes back to Kravitz and Taako folding origami.

Or, rather, they’re making origami out of discarded junk. Currently, Kravitz is in the middle of making a Yoplait lid frog and Taako is making a gum wrapper swan.

Kravitz glances up at her when she enters the room. “Hey,” he says. “How was your chat?”

She shrugs. “Not bad. What are you, um— what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Taako holds up his creation. “Art.”

“Right. Totally.” She plucks a finished figure off the coffee table in front of them: a butterfly made out of a Hot Pocket sleeve. “They’re beautiful.”

“Fuck yeah they are,” says Taako.

Kravitz sets his Yoplait frog down in front of him. “Are you ready to go, Lup?”   


“Oh, don’t stop on account of me,” she tells him. “You guys are having an origami folding sesh? Without me?”   


Kravitz shoots her a glare, but there’s no real malice behind it. “You abandoned me. You get no origami.”

“Ouch,” says Taako. “He’s got you there.”

“My bad, man. But, to be fair, you never told me of your secret talent.” She lifts up the frog he made and begins to inspect it. “Look at this. Impeccable.”

Kravitz snatches it back and cradles it to his chest. “You’re right. He _ is _ impeccable.”

“No one’s gonna compliment my swan?” asks Taako. “This took hours of blood, sweat, and tears.”

“It took you five minutes,” says Kravitz. 

“Five minutes of blood, sweat, and tears,” he corrects. 

Kravitz rolls his eyes and rises from the couch. “Should we go?” he asks Lup.

“Probably.” She directs her attention towards Taako, who sits sprawled on the couch, folding and unfolding the various wrappers he’s collected. There’s a part of her that’s pained to know he doesn’t understand her the way she understands him, and another part that’s overjoyed to be able to speak to him again, and yet another part still that’s entirely overwhelmed. She wants to stay, really— wants to reconnect with him and to spend time together like they used to. She wants to wait for Merle to come back so she can play his made-up card games. She wants Magnus to walk through the door so they can duel each other with broomsticks. She wants to stay, needs to stay, just a little longer, just enough to make up for a little of the years of lost time, but she can’t. Not yet. 

“I’ll see you, Taako,” she tells him. 

He gives her an awkward half-wave that he usually gives to strangers. “Bye.”

Kravitz takes a few steps forward into the kitchen area. Lup follows. He creates a portal with a quick swipe of his scythe, but, before she can go through, sticks an arm in front of her. “Wait,” he asks, his voice hushed so as to prevent Taako from overhearing, “who’s Lucretia?”

Lup sighs. The whole unfiltered truth would take hours to unload, so instead she simply responds with, “A friend.”   


Kravitz’s face drops into annoyance. “If she’s a death criminal, I’m gonna be real pissed.”

“She’s not a death criminal,” she assures, then remembers each time she died during the cycles. “Well…”

“Lup.”

“She’s not a necromancer, is what I’m saying,” she says. 

“But did she die?”   


“Not important.”   


“Lup!” 

”The thing is,” she says, “she’s an old friend of mine and I needed to talk to her. Alright?”   


Kravitz’s face cycles through a number of emotions, most of which are negative. “Okay,” he says finally.

“Okay,” she replies.

And the two of them step through the portal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all!!  
> i was very nervous about posting this chapter bc i'm afraid people will take issue with how i've made lucretia and lup interact BUT. hear me out. i swear i can defend why lup would react the way she does upon seeing lucretia again. many thoughts head full. also sorry there wasn't really any eleventh hour at all but because neither lup or kravitz experienced eleventh hour so i decided to skip over it :( sorry for anyone who was wanting Sweet Sweet eleventh hour content!!!!! and i don't think i mentioned this BUT i got a kitten. she likes to scratch up my entire arm and hand and then fall asleep. i love her  
> anyways!! i hope everyone is doing okay. i love and appreciate you all!!! thank you so much for reading!!!!!  
> next chapter: kravitz gets a call. the raven queen is an avid bridge player, despite me not understanding a single thing about bridge. i may not know how anything works but GOD i will stand by my headcanon that raven queen plays bridge!!!!!!!!!!  
> tumblr: nillial


	10. Death, Dates, and Bridge

“Okay,” says Kravitz. “You have your scythe ready? In the right stance? Elbows and shoulders back, feet apart, grip tight?”

“Super ready,” Lup replies. “Don’t know why I have to be in a battle stance for this, though.”

“It’s easier for beginners this way,” he explains. 

“Aw, come on. I’m not a beginner. That’s lame.”

“You are most definitely a beginner. Focus up, Lup, back to training.”

She rolls her eyes, but complies nonetheless. She’s totally going to steal his wallet once this is over with as revenge. 

Kravitz steps out in front of her, examining her form, adjusting her arms and elbows as he sees fit, which Lup begrudgingly allows him to do. Once he’s satisfied, he says, “Now, to create a portal, you first need to imagine where you need to go. It doesn’t need to be in an exact place— most of the time, you’re going to have to open portals to places you haven’t been before. Instead, you can imagine the people you’re trying to get to, the general area you need to be in, and even just what you think the area might look like. Be sure to keep the name of the person or place you’re trying to travel to in mind. However, it’s easier to open a portal to somewhere you’ve been before, so you’re going to open a portal to the lobby. Got that?”

“Got it,” she replies, squeezing her eyes shut and visualizing the lobby for the thirtieth time that day. 

“Alright. Make sure you have that image in your mind, and then start channeling magic to your scythe.”

She taps into the magic in her veins, feels it coursing through her, and redirects it into her scythe. Peeking an eye open, she notices the palms of her hands glowing with power.

“Lift up your scythe and make a quick, downward slice in the air, keeping the image of the place you need to be in your mind.”

Lup rears back and slices her scythe into the air in front of her, its blade hitting the ground with a sharp thunk. Once again, there’s no portal.

“This fucking  _ sucks,”  _ she groans. “I’m a badass wizard. I should have this mastered already.”

“I told you, Lup,” says Kravitz, “creating portals is one of the most difficult reaper skills to get ahold of. It takes most people a year or so just to create a rift to the lobby. You haven’t been here very long.”

“Yeah, well…” Lup leans her weight on the handle of her scythe, casting her eyes towards the far wall instead of at Kravitz. “I should’ve made  _ some  _ progress, at the very least.”

“You have,” he tells her. “You just don’t realize it.”

“Mhmm.” She wills her scythe away. “Hey, how about we take a break from portal-ing? It’s starting to get boring and I wanna plan our bomb-as-fuck entrances to our next bounty hunt.”

“God, I didn’t realize how pyrotechnics can improve everything until you prestidigitation-ed those fireworks behind us last time.”

“That’s why I chose fire-based evocation magic,” she says. “Pyrotechnics makes everything cooler.”

“You know what’d make it even better?”

“Don’t say it.”

“If you adopted a work accent.”

“No.”

“Just one. Come on. How does Irish sound?”

“No thanks.”

“Russian?”

“I’m good.”

“Transylvanian! You could be like a vampire! Eh?  _ Eh?” _

“Not gonna happen, Skelly,” she says, offering him a pat on the shoulder. “Fortunately, I’m not a nerd.”

“Neither am I,” he argues. “I just recognize the value of a good work accent.”

Lup is about to retort, but then she hears the radio static characteristic of an incoming call on a Stone of Farspeech. Kravitz fumbles around in his pockets until he finally finds it. With a sigh, he says, “I have to take this.” and walks out of the training room, Stone in hand.

Lup sighs, sliding against the training room wall and onto the floor. She should be able to do this. She should have learned already. Lup was one of the best wizards on her home planet. Now, she’s stuck in Hell trying and failing to cast a single spell. 

She hugs herself to her knees. Barry is still out there. She needs to begin her search for him soon, but she can’t do that without being able to make her own portals. She needs him to know that she’s okay. She needs to see him. She needs him near her again, beside her, with her each step of the way like he used to be. Together. 

If Lucretia is right about him being safe, then he’s managed to outrun every reaper after him so far. Which is good— it’s just that now she has to be the reaper who can catch him. 

Kravitz pushes open the double doors that lead into the training room, stuffing his Stone into the pocket of his cloak. “Okay,” he says, “something— um— something came up. I’ve got to go upstairs and get ready real quick and then I’m leaving. So, uh— just keep training down here while I’m gone.”

“What do you mean?” she asks. “Going where?”

He winces. “Some weird sounding restaurant pottery place, I guess? That’s what it sounds like, anyway. But, uh, like I said, keep training, you can do it, bye.”

“What place, Krav? Why are you going there?” she calls after him, although he’s already two steps out of the room.

Kravitz yells another “Bye!” in her direction before he swings the doors behind him shut.

Hmm.

Lup rises from the ground. The training room is odd when it’s empty— each movement echoes off the walls, every swipe of her scythe is louder than it should be, and all the faceless mannequins stare at her with what she can only assume is ill intent. It’s an uncomfortable space that she’s become familiar with in the past couple of weeks. She resummons her scythe into her grip, trying to remember what Kravitz told her to do.

First, she needs to assume the correct form. She shifts into battle stance, her scythe at the ready, as if she’s about to strike. Next, she visualizes the place she wants to go— in this case, the lobby. She imagines its dull color scheme, its tiled floors, the front desk and the people sitting behind it, and she imagines herself there with it. Then, she begins channeling her magic into the scythe, feeling its flow, its power, all concentrating on her weapon. When finally, finally, she feels that it’s charged, she lifts the scythe high above her head and makes a solid downward strike. 

Of course, nothing happens.

Thoroughly annoyed, she wills her scythe away. 

Fuck this noise. She exits the training room and decides to set her course on another area in the building— one she probably doesn’t have proper access to, but she’s going to enter all the same.

Lup navigates through several hallways, each getting progressively darker as she moves towards the center of the building. Although she had to stop, look at maps, and ask for directions more times than she’d like to admit, the tunnel-like hallways become dimmer and dimmer until she can’t see at all and she finally reaches a pitch black arena void of all signs of life. At least the Raven Queen chooses an aesthetic and sticks to it. 

Once she reaches the middle of the room, she stops, cups her hands over her mouth, and yells, “Hey!”

From the shadows steps the Raven Queen’s imposing figure, towering over Lup, the stark white of her skull blinding against the darkness shrouding her. Her voice manifests in her mind, thunderous and noiseless at the same time.  _ HELLO, LUP. _

“Are you free?”

_ I AM BOUND TO NEITHER MAN NOR THE WHIMS OF NATURE. RATHER, I CREATE THE LAWS OF BOTH. TIME DOES NOT AFFECT ME, NOR AGE, NOR WEATHERMENT. I AM ETERNAL, AND ETERNAL I WILL REMAIN. I AM SUBJECT TO NO RULE EXCEPT MY OWN.  _

“Cool. Wanna hang?”

The Raven Queen shrugs.  _ SURE. _

-

Taako taps his fingers rhythmically against the table, eyes skimming across the dozen couples in the process of shaping clay into vases. Meanwhile, he’s sitting alone, two empty wine glasses in front of him, wearing his nice cloak with minimal stains for no apparent reason. If Taako cared enough to be embarrassed, he’d be embarrassed.

His stare catches on Carey and Killian, who are seated in the far corner, talking amongst themselves. Carey glances up at him.

He subtly pulls the brim of his hat further down around his face.

Where the fuck is the potential deliverer of his destruction?

Finally, after a few more excruciating minutes of waiting, he hears the door creak open and watches Kravitz, the hood of his cloak over his head, cautiously step inside. Taako waves him over and he shuffles towards him, his brow drawn, casting his gaze across the room until it finally lands back on him. He removes his feathered cloak and hangs it over the chair, settling into his seat. “Well, Taako, this is, uh, a pretty unconventional place to have an argument about the fate of a whole small community.” The waitress comes around and fills their glasses nearly to the brim and Kravitz’s eyebrows raise. “But I do like wine, so…” 

Kravitz raises the glass in front of him to his lips and then suddenly pauses, puts his hand to his temple, and sighs. When he opens his mouth to speak, it’s no longer the weird Cockney-ish that he used in the lab and during their talk in the dorm.. “I’m sorry, do you mind if I drop the accent? It’s, like— It’s really, really hard to keep up, and when I’m not on the job, it just feels weird doing it. Is that okay?”   


His accent is fake.

Of course his accent is fake— it often drifts somewhere between vaguely British and the voice Oliver Twist’s evil clone would use to ask a stranger for a quid before insisting that he had fucked their mother— but  _ God. _ To speak in a Cockney accent for no discernable reason and then keep it up for a weirdly long amount of time is  _ something. _

Taako holds back laughter, although a few snorts escape. “Yeah, of course!” he says, and then, lowering his voice as far as he can, tells him, “As long as I can drop my accent, too.”

The both of them erupt into snorts and giggles, attracting a few looks, but Taako doesn’t care much. 

He’s having fun.

-

“What do you do for fun around here?” asks Lup, after a few moments of poking around at the particularly dark edges of the room. She thinks it might be a legitimate void. So far, she hasn’t found any sign of walls.

_ MANY THINGS, _ says the Raven Queen.  _ DETERMINE THE DESTINY OF WAYWARD SOULS. PRESIDE OVER THE IMMUTABLE LAW OF LIFE AND DEATH. PRACTICE BRIDGE. _

“Oh, sweet, you play bridge?”

_ EVERY SUNDAY AT 4 P.M. WITH THE OTHER DEITIES. KRAVITZ JOINS ME ON OCCASION. HE ONCE WON A GAME AGAINST PAN AND HAS NOT STOPPED MENTIONING IT SINCE. IT WAS TWENTY YEARS AGO.  _

“I’m going to take that as ‘Kravitz hasn’t won a game of bridge in twenty years’ and hold that over his head for the rest of his afterlife,” Lup tells her. “You wanna play a few games, Lady Goth?”

_ OF COURSE,  _ she says. _ I NEVER SAY NO TO A GAME OF BRIDGE. _

“Hell yeah. I’m gonna beat your ass at this.”

_ IT IS, PERHAPS, NOT WISE TO TELL A GODDESS THAT YOU ARE GOING TO BEAT HER ASS. _

“Those are the words of someone who’s afraid to lose,” says Lup.

_ I AM NOT AFRAID TO LOSE. I AM NO CHICKENSHIT. YOU ARE THE ONE WHO WILL LOSE. _

“Then bring it on, Boss.”

_ IN THAT CASE,  _ she tells her, _ I AM GOING TO CRUSH YOU.  _

Lup grins. “That’s the spirit. So are we playing bridge, or what?”

The Raven Queen takes a step back. When she does, a dark sphere rises in front of her, before morphing and extending to take the shape she desires. It folds out into a sleek, black table, its surface glistening despite there being no light to speak of. On either side are wooden chairs, seemingly made out of the same material as the tables, except one chair is massive— more of a small skyscraper than a seat. The other is of the same height, but the seat itself is instead fit for a human, so it looks like a normal dining chair with legs that extend into infinity. It’d be comical, if Lup were to ignore the skeletal hand emerging from the shadows and advancing towards her.

“Okay,” she says, “I have decided I hate this.”

The Raven Queen either doesn’t hear her or ignores her. The bones of her fingers pinch the hem of her cloak and pluck her from the ground. Lup wriggles and flails, but none of it frees her. Even if it did, she doesn’t think it’d be a smart choice. She’d rather not be dropped into the endless void that the Raven Queen has taken up residence in. She wonders if it’s like couch cushions she doesn’t check under often— that sometimes she’s looking for the remote and instead finds some soul she dropped on accident three millennia ago. 

Luckily, the Raven Queen safely deposits her in her chair. Lup clutches the armrests for safety. Meanwhile, the Raven Queen settles in her own seat, as if she’s not about to play a card game with someone who, relative to her, is the size of an ant. For the first time, Lup is able to, at least partially, see the outline of her form instead of only her skull. From what she can tell, she’s wearing a cloak not too unlike Kravitz’s, although there are many more feathers on hers. If she peers closely enough, she thinks she can see the heads of ravens poking out from between the folds, looking around, and ducking back in. 

“I feel like I have to yell across this table to talk to you,” she shouts. “Can you hear me?”   


_ I _ _ COULD HEAR YOU FINE EVEN IF YOU WERE TO WHISPER,  _ the Raven Queen tells her.  _ I AM THE GODDESS OF THIS REALM. I HEAR ALL. _

“Can you hear this?” Lup asks, then whispers, “Necromancy is cool!” under her breath. 

_ I CAN. ALSO, YOU ARE GETTING DEMOTED. _

“Aw, what?”

_ I AM KIDDING. JUST JOSHING. WERE YOU NOT JOSHING AS WELL? _

“Yeah, I was joshin’,” she tells her. And, then, in a quieter voice than before, whispers, “Not.”

_ LUP. _

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop. For now. Are we gonna play?”

The Raven Queen lifts her massive skeletal hands from seemingly nowhere and claps twice.  _ DEALER? _

A pair of disembodied hands manifest from the shadows. It’s a larger version of what she’s seen Kravitz use in his own card games with death criminals. Below it appears a deck of cards, which the dealer picks up and shuffles before providing each of them with thirteen cards and leaving the stack of the remaining cards face down on the table. Lup lifts her cards in front of her and looks at the hand she’s dealt. “Are we playing for anything?”

_ WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY FOR? _

“Hmm.” Lup leans forward on the table in front of her, resting her chin in her hands. “How about I bet my immortal soul and you bet your godhood?”

_ NO. _

“Fair.”

_ PERHAPS WE SHOULD PLAY ONLY FOR FUNSIES. _

“Boring, but fine.” She inches forward, as if to tell her a secret. “But I’ll rise to godhood one day. Watch out, Boss.”

_ I FEAR FOR YOUR ASCENSION.  _

She sounds like she doesn’t believe her. She’ll be proven wrong in time.

Lup glances back down at her hand. “Ignoring the conventional rules of two player bridge,” she says, “do you wanna do a trump suit?”

_ WOULD YOU LIKE TO DO A TRUMP SUIT? _

“No-trumps are for cowards.” She studies her hand. “How’s hearts sound?”

_ HEARTS IT IS. _

Lup is going to win this game.

“Alright,” she says. “I’m gonna do seven tricks and I’ll start off with a three of clubs. Your move, Boss.”

The Raven Queen pauses, then plucks a card out of her hand and lays it down. A five of clubs. 

Lup searches through her own hand for the next card to play. “Kravitz is gonna be so mad when I tell him I beat you at bridge.”

_ YOU WILL NOT BEAT ME.  _

“Me and my brother once swindled some poor fucker out of five thousand gold in a game of bridge.” She lays down a two of diamonds. “That’s not even the highest payout we’ve ever gotten. Rich people parties are the best place to gamble— they’re always overconfident and have a lot of money to lose. Not hard to get into, either. If you’re snotty enough and insist that the dress you stole out of a hotel’s lost and found bin is a Fantasy Alexander McQueen original, they let you in. Point is: I’m really fuckin’ good at bridge and you’re going to lose.”

_ THAT STORY SEEMS TO HAVE NOTHING IN COMMON WITH BEATING A GODDESS IN BRIDGE. _

“They’re both about me being amazing at bridge.”

_ YOU AND YOUR BROTHER. _

“Yeah,” she says. “Me and my brother.”

The Raven Queen lays down a six of clubs. It’s not enough to beat Lup. “What did I say?” she asks, allowing a smug grin spread across her face. “I’m fuckin’ fantastic at this game. When I do become a goddess, this is what I’m gonna be the patron of.”

_ YOU ARE TOO LATE, _ she says.  _ I AM ALREADY THE PATRON OF BRIDGE. _

“What? How? Why am I just now learning about this?”

_ I FILLED OUT THE PROPER PAPERWORK. I AM THE PATRON OF AROUND FIFTY DIFFERENT THINGS. NO ONE TALKS ABOUT IT BECAUSE PEOPLE ONLY REALLY PAY ATTENTION TO THE LIFE AND DEATH THING, AND, ADMITTEDLY, I ONLY MADE MYSELF PATRON OF BRIDGE FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES. _

“You can just… become the patron of something?”

_ IF YOU GO THROUGH THE RIGHT CHANNELS, YES. I AM A GODDESS, LUP. I DO WHATEVER I WANT. _

“Don’t people have to worship you for that thing specifically for you to be its patron? Or, like, don’t you have to have special powers associated with it?”

_ YES, BECAUSE PEOPLE ARE GOING TO BUILD A CHURCH OF BRIDGE. MY SPECIAL BRIDGE POWER IS THAT I AM INCREDIBLE AT IT. COME ON, LUP. _

“I’m just so crushed that I can’t be the bridge goddess anymore.”

_ IT IS OKAY. IT WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN A FITTING TITLE, ANYWAY. _

“Hey!”

_ YOU COULD BE THE PATRON GODDESS OF CRAZY EIGHTS, PERHAPS. _

“No,” she says, sighing. “You ruined it. You ruined my win. I think I deserve a bonus for the emotional damages you’ve caused me.”

_ THAT IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. _

“We’ll see.”

_ BESIDES,  _ she tells her,  _ YOU HAVE FOCUSED TOO MUCH ON WINNING THE FIRST TRICK. THAT IS A BEGINNER’S MISTAKE. _

She rolls her eyes, which might not be the best thing to do in front of a goddess who could crush her between her fingers, but Lup’s love of pestering overrides her decision-making abilities. “It was a two of diamonds and I didn’t have any clubs left, Lady Goth. It wasn’t exactly a winning card.”

_ YOU DO NOT KNOW THAT YET. IT MIGHT SEEM INSIGNIFICANT NOW, BUT IT COULD LOSE YOU THE GAME. _

“Yeah, okay. Well, because I won, I’m getting first pick of the stock, so…” Lup gestures for the dealer, who slides a card off the top of the pile and brings it to her. Although the card seems gigantic in the dealer’s hands, it appears to shrink in size the closer it approaches, and, once the card is laid in front of her, it’s sized perfectly. Trippy.

The Raven Queen reaches over and pulls a card off of the stock, adding it to her own hand.  _ MY TURN. _ She gently places a king of spades on the table. 

“Aw, come on. And you gave me shit for playing a two of diamonds?” Lup slides over a three of spades. Fuck this. She’s going to lose her spades over the dumb rule of following suit. 

_ I HAVE MY STRATEGY, YOU HAVE YOURS. _ She lays down a two of spades.  _ YOUR BROTHER IS TAAKO, RIGHT? THE DEATH CRIMINAL? _

She narrows her eyes. Is this meant to be part of her strategy? “Yeah, that’s him. Not much of a death criminal, though. Why?”

_ YOU SEEM TO HAVE MANY STORIES ABOUT HIM, she says. FEEL FREE TO TELL THEM. _

She stares at the cards in her hands, then takes a deep breath inward and lets it out just as slowly. She doesn’t look up at the Raven Queen, instead keeping her focus trained on her hand while her mind drifts elsewhere. “If you really wanna hear ‘em. Swear you won’t use them for evil?”

_ I AM LAWFUL NEUTRAL, NOT EVIL _ .

“Good enough for me, I guess,” she says. “One year, on our birthday when he was just starting to learn transmutation, he wanted to make a cake but couldn’t get all of the ingredients, or, like, you know, an oven to bake it in. So he made a mud pie and transmuted it into a cake. I didn’t know until I bit into it and got a mouthful of dirt. He made the outside frosting. The inside was still mud, and even then, the frosting tasted like soil.”

_ HMM. _ The Raven Queen sets down a two of spades. _ I WIN THE SECOND TRICK. ANOTHER STORY, LUP? _

“Yeah, well, fuck you too, Boss,” she tells her, her tone not disdainful but instead weighed down with mild annoyance. She allows the Raven Queen to draw from the stock before the dealer hands Lup her next card. “I’m putting down an ace of diamonds. Fuck you. Anyways, as for stories: Sometimes we would work on traveling caravans together as cooks. Most of the time, we worked for the circus, and most of the time, they would try and convince us to be part of some, like, Fantasy  _ Shining _ twin act. We were short on cash and agreed to do it one time because we weren’t keen on humiliating ourselves too often, but  _ God,  _ it was a good time. We love fucking with people and creeping folks out is a very effective way to do that. I prestidigitation-ed some spiders crawling around everywhere, Taako magicked his eyes black, it was all a lot of fun. He acted like he hated it, but I knew he thought it was fun, too.”

The Raven Queen lays down a three of diamonds.  _ SOUNDS NICE, _ she says. _ I HAVE BEEN TOLD I AM CREEPY. _

The Raven Queen  _ is  _ conventionally creepy. She’s giant, she’s all-powerful, she moves like a cross between a bird and a marionette puppet, she lives in a void and has a skull for a face— Lup won’t deny she’s given her the chills a few times. “That bother you?” she asks.

_ NO, _ she replies. _ I, LIKE YOU, ENJOY FUCKING WITH PEOPLE.  _

“I can see that.” Lup sets down a four of diamonds. “Me and Taako used to fuck with people constantly. Like, we used to tell people we were raised by a rat in the sewers Fantasy Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles style, or we’d act like one of us is actually a ghost while the other pretends not to see us, or we’d do a classic where we’d climb on the others shoulders and hide ourselves in a big coat and act like we were one very tall adult.”

_ YOU ARE FOND OF HIM. _

“Well, yeah.”

_ HE DOES NOT REMEMBER YOU, _ she says matter-of-factly.

She winces. “Kravitz told you, huh?”

_ NO, _ she tells her. _ HE DID NOT TELL ME. YOU FORGET I AM OMNISCIENT. I HEAR AND SEE ALL THAT GOES ON IN MY REALM. _

Lup cringes, overcome with the sudden desire to curl into a ball and stay like that forever. “You saw me crying on the roof?”

_ ONLY A LITTLE BIT, AND UNWILLINGLY. I LOOKED AWAY. I AM RESPECTFUL OF MY RETINUE’S PRIVACY. OMNISCIENCE CAN BE BOTH A BLESSING AND A CURSE. _

“I think I’ll be resigning now.”

_ YOU CAN RESIGN IF YOU BEAT ME,  _ she says. _ I HEARD YOU SPEAK OF FRIENDS. AGAIN, UNWILLINGLY. ARE THEY ALSO DEATH CRIMINALS? _

“Depends on your definition of ‘death criminal.’”   


_ I DEFINED DEATH CRIMINAL IN THE EMPLOYEE HANDBOOK. DID YOU NOT READ IT? _

Lup grips the armrests of her chair. Shit. “Oh, yeah, for sure, for sure.”

_ YOU DO NOT NEED TO LIE. NOBODY READS THAT SHIT. ANYONE WHO DOES IS A NERD. _

“Oh. Glad we see it the same way, then.”

_ THAT WAS A TEST. YOU ARE FIRED. _

“Aw, man.”

_ I AM JOSHING AGAIN. L.O.L.  _ The Raven Queen does not actually laugh, but instead pronounces each letter in “lol” with a monotone inflection.  _ ANYWAYS, I WOULD LIKE TO LEARN MORE ABOUT YOUR FRIENDS. _

“Are you gonna stuff ‘em in the Stockade?”

_ I JUST ENJOY GETTING TO KNOW MY EMPLOYEES. I DO NOT KNOW MUCH ABOUT YOU YET, LUP, AND I WOULD LIKE TO.  _

Lup considers it. If she doesn’t offer up names nor detail any major death crimes, then she can’t throw them in Ghost Jail. Even if she does, Lup would break them out, the Law of Life and Death be damned. She’d do anything for her family. Besides, she wouldn’t exactly  _ mind  _ a cool jailbreak mission.

“I have five, not including Taako,” she tells her. “You know two of them, kinda. You pardoned them of their death crimes.”

_ THE OTHER THREE HAVE NOT COMMITTED ANY OFFENSES AGAINST THE LAW OF LIFE AND DEATH, HAVE THEY? _

“No, ‘course not,” Lup lies. “They’d never.”

Technically, all of the death crimes everyone else committed were wholly accidental and done unwillingly. Except for Barry, of course— both she and Barry most definitely committed intentional death crimes.

If the Raven Queen doesn’t believe her, she can’t tell. She only tilts her head and asks,  _ THESE OTHER FRIENDS. WHAT ARE THEY LIKE? _

She’s not loving all of the questions, per se. Still, being stuck in an umbrella for a little over ten years without being able to interact with her brother, boyfriend, or best friends hasn’t been fun. She likes to talk about them, she thinks. She likes to share their stories with someone other than herself, likes to reminisce about the fun they used to have and have somebody listen, likes to remember even if they can’t and let someone else remember with her. Even if it’s a goddess who doubles as her boss.

“One of them used to keep journals full of stories about us,” she tells her. “I wish I could read them, but I’m pretty sure they’re gone by now. You’d like it, if you like my stories so much.”

_ I AM OLD, _ says the Raven Queen. _ I AM NOTHING BUT STORIES. I HAVE COLLECTED TOO MANY TO RECOUNT, BUT I WILL NEVER STOP TRYING TO FIND NEW ONES.  _

“Or maybe you’re just weird.”

_ MAYBE. TELL ME MORE ABOUT YOUR FRIEND. _

Lup takes a deep breath. “She was kind and funny and compassionate. I liked her company. We used to have these, like, ‘girl’s nights’ every so often, but they weren’t ‘girl’s nights’ so much as the two of us getting bored and making a blanket fort before accidentally setting it on fire after trying to make s’mores under it.” Her gaze drifts from the Raven Queen and into the inky blackness behind her as she loses herself in her thoughts. “Then we’d get chewed out by my other friend, who also happened to be my boss. You know, ‘safety violations’ and ‘fire hazards’ and ‘potential threat to the entire crew’ and trivial shit like that. He and I went fishing once and he fell asleep, like, twenty minutes in, so I drew a dick on his forehead and told no one to tell him. He went like that to a meeting an esteemed government official was hosting. Shit was fuckin’ hilarious.”

_ AND THE THIRD? _

Lup hesitates.”My boyfriend,” she tells her, after a just slightly too-long silence. She puts down a four of diamonds. “I win the trick,” she says. 

_ YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND? _

“Yeah.” She draws a card from the stock as the Raven Queen does the same. “I— I miss him. I miss him a lot.”

The Raven Queen lays down a two of hearts.  _ YOUR BOYFRIEND,  _ she says.  _ WHAT IS HE LIKE? _

Lup chews the inside of her cheek as she sets down a four of hearts. She knows she has to speak carefully and give away as little identifying information as possible— Barry is a lich, after all, and an old, powerful one. Catching him would prove more valuable than catching Lucretia or Davenport. “He’s kind,” she tells her, her eyes trained on the cards in front of her. “He’s funny, and he’s smart, and he’s talented. And he’s, you know— he’s an easy person to love.”

_ YOU SEEM SAD. _

“Well, I—” She sighs, casting her gaze to the side. “I haven’t seen him in over a decade.”

_ OH. _

“Yeah,” she says. “Oh.”

The Raven Queen sets a six of hearts on the pile.  _ WHY NOT? _

There are plenty of reasons why she hasn’t seen him, none of which she can tell in great detail. For one, she doesn’t know where he is and he doesn’t know where she is. She doesn’t quite know if he’s in lich form or human form, thus has no idea whether or not he remembers her at all. For all she knows, he could have started the new, happy life the two of them always dreamt about without her. He could have started it with somebody else. 

But he’s safe. 

His safety should be relief enough, but Lup still finds herself desperately longing for more, more, more, a craving for something that can never be filled with vague information alone. She needs to know where he is. She needs to know what he’s been doing. She needs to know if he’s okay, really okay, not just free of the Stockade, not just stable, but  _ okay. _ She needs to see him. She needs to be near him. She needs to look at his face, she needs to hear his voice, she needs to hug him tight and never let go. She needs to do the things they used to do— performing ill-conceived experiments, giggling over nothing, making their way to each other’s bedrooms in the middle of the night only to wordlessly flop onto the mattress and fall asleep there until they just started sleeping in the same bed. She loves him. She can’t stand being apart for any longer. 

If only she could fucking leave this place by her own accord. She’d search all over Faerun just to catch a glimpse of him. She’d hold him tight and breathe him in and never, ever let go. 

“It’s complicated,” is all Lup says in response to the Raven Queen’s question. 

_ I SEE,  _ she replies. _ I HOPE THINGS TURN OUT WELL FOR YOU, LUP. _

“Thanks, Lady Goth. I hope so, too.” 

_ AND WHAT ABOUT YOU? _

“What?”   


_ YOU HAVE TOLD ME OF YOUR FRIENDS. WHAT ABOUT YOU? _

She’s not sure what to say. “I— I mean, I’m Lup,” she tells her. “I’m an incredible evocationist and I’m about to beat you at bridge.”

_ YOU ARE NOT, FOR THE RECORD.  _

“Yeah, well, we'll see.”

_ YOU JUST SEEM SO PREOCCUPIED WITH YOUR FRIENDS AND THEIR WELLBEING. WHAT IS IT THAT YOU WANT? _

Lup purses her lips together. Ever since leaving the umbrella, she hasn’t been concerned with herself. She can’t be. Not when her family is torn apart. 

“I just—” she stammers, quiet. “I just want to be happy.”

There’s a silence between them. After a few moments pass, she lays down a seven of clubs. “Well, you win this trick. How’s it feel?”

_ LIKE I AM WHERE I AM MEANT TO BE. WHICH IS WINNING. I AM MEANT TO BE WINNING. _

“Sure,” she says. “Next trick?”

-

Kravitz walks alongside Taako across the Bureau of Balance quad. It’s relatively empty this evening, the stars above them are particularly bright, and the air is pleasantly cool. Taako laughs at his own joke and Kravitz can’t help but laugh with him. His joy is contagious. 

He clutches his poorly sculpted vase to himself, while Taako has his bowl under his arm. The instructor gave him a dirty look when he went to retrieve it from the kiln, but Taako just flipped him off and left. Kravitz found it funny. The instructor, evidently, did not, and switched his dirty look onto him instead once he started giggling. He’s in too good of a mood to care. It’s been a nice night.

He’s excused Taako, Magnus, and Merle, as well as the town of Refuge, for their death crimes, but Kravitz gets the feeling that a discussion over the Raven Queen’s Law isn’t the only reason why he was invited here. He hopes he’s right. He just has to gather the courage to ask.

Kravitz glances at Taako out of the corner of his eye— who is absentmindedly prestidigitation-ing crude drawings of dicks on his bowl,  _ why  _ does Kravitz like him?— and says, “Taako, I want to know…”

Taako looks up at him. “Yeah?”

He takes a deep breath. “Was this call for business or pleasure?”

At that, a lopsided grin spreads across Taako’s face. He shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, a little bit of both. I, uh, for sure didn't want to be dragged to hell or whatever it is you do. Stored in the ghost house with Casper and the lot. But, like, also, I love your style.” He gestures towards Kravitz’s hands. “Not crazy about the sort of cold clamminess of the skin, but like, yeah, you know, it's been a while out here.”

Huh. 

Kravitz pauses, and then Taako pauses, and then they’re both standing next to one another, staring.

And then the lawn sprinklers come on. 

They sprint away and towards a dry patch of grass, but they’re both still soaked. Kravitz lifts a soggy sleeve and wrings some water out of his tie. Beside him, Taako shakes water off his cloak like a dog coming out of a bath. “I need to pick up a new umbrella sometime,” he says. “Fuckin’ sprinkler system. I blame The Director. We’re on the moon. I don’t even know how we  _ have  _ grass. I don’t even know if it’s  _ real.  _ Why the fuck do we need a sprinkler system?”

That’s a good question, actually. He lifts his foot and peers at the grass under it. Is it real?

Before he can wonder any further, Taako interrupts his thoughts. “Well,” he says, “I should prob’ly head out, then. Get changed. Throw out the mushy loose potato chips in my pocket.”

“Were they mushy before or after the sprinklers?”

“That’s my business,” Taako tells him. 

Kravitz grins. He’s had a good time tonight, in spite of the pushy pottery instructor, and the sprinklers, and Taako talking about the soggy potato chips he has in his pocket. He wouldn’t mind hanging out like this again. He hopes Taako wouldn’t either.

“Let me walk you home,” he says.

-

Lup lays down a five of spades. “Hope you’re okay with losing.”

_ I DO NOT LOSE, _ the Raven Queen replies, setting an eight of spades overtop her card.

“Sure,” she says, throwing down a nine of spades perhaps with too much force. “Until now.”

The Raven Queen silently sets a king of spades overtop the stack. Lup groans.

_ IT SEEMS I HAVE WON THIS TRICK,  _ she tells her, already drawing from the stock.

Lup does the same, but says, “Aw, you suck, Boss.”

_ IT IS NOT NICE TO TELL YOUR BOSS THEY SUCK. _

“Well, it’s happening.”

_ IT IS YOU WHO SUCKS. YOU SUCK SO, SO HARD. _

“Ouch.”

_ TOO FAR?  _

“No, but this might be,” she tells her, slamming down a seven of hearts on the table. “Suck on  _ that.” _

The Raven Queen slides over a nine of hearts.  _ NO THANK YOU. _

She feigns heartbreak, plastering a deep frown on her face and clutching her hand to her chest. “Oh, no. I’m gonna lose. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I think I’m gonna pack up and leave. I’m gonna have to retire. I’m gonna have to lock myself in the Stockade. I’m gonna—” She drops her somber facade and lets a wide grin spread across her face as she tosses an ace of hearts her way. _ “ _ Just kidding, obvi. I’m the best. I win!”

_ NOT YET. YOU HAVE ONLY WON THIS TRICK. _

She reaches for the card the dealer draws from stock for her. The Raven Queen pulls her own card from the stock. “Correction: I’ve won half the tricks. Why don’t you call this a day right here and now, huh? It’ll save you the humiliation of losing.”

_ SCARED? _

“No,” she says, leaning back in her seat. “Just tryin’ to do you a favor.”

_ YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT ONLY GODS HAVE BEAT ME IN BRIDGE. NOT A SINGLE REAPER, NOR MORTAL, NOR LICH CAN BEST ME. _

“Until now.” She’s about to gesture for the Raven Queen to make her move, but stops upon processing her words. “Did you say lich? Lady Goth, did you play against _ liches?” _

She doesn’t reply. Instead, she lays down a two of diamonds.

Lup scoffs. “What the fuck? Do you  _ want  _ to lose?”

The Raven Queen only tilts her head.

She can’t believe this. She’s going to win. She’s going to win against the Raven Queen. She’s going to be the first reaper to win a game against the goddess of life and death herself because she’s Lup. She’s fucking amazing. 

She can’t wait to tell Kravitz about this. He’s going to  _ weep. _

Lup eagerly raises her cards to her face, scanning her hand. She’s going to win this. She’s going to  _ win  _ this.

Except—

She feels her face fall.

Except all she has left are clubs.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me,” she mumbles under her breath.

_ DID YOU SAY SOMETHING? _ asks the Raven Queen.  _ JUST JOSHING AGAIN. I HEARD WHAT YOU SAID. I HEAR EVERYTHING. _

She, with more than some hesitation, silently slides over a three of clubs. 

_ I HAVE NEVER SEEN YOU QUIET. _ Even with her unwavering monotone inflection, she can hear the sarcasm in her voice. The Raven Queen lays down an eight of clubs.  _ IS EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT, LUP? _

“I am so mad at you,” she tells her under her breath, before providing her with a four of clubs. 

_ OH,  _ she says,  _ WHAT’S THIS? LUP, CAN YOU TELL ME WHAT’S JUST HAPPENED?  _

“You became my most hated enemy.”

_ I SUPPOSE, BUT I FEEL LIKE THERE WAS SOMETHING ELSE. SOMETHING INVOLVING MY INCREDIBLE STRENGTH AND SKILL BOTH AS A CARD PLAYER AND AS A GODDESS. CAN YOU REMIND ME, LUP? CAN YOU REMIND ME WHAT THAT WAS? _

Through gritted teeth, Lup explains to her, “You won the game.”

_ I WON THE GAME. THAT IS CORRECT. CONGRATULATIONS. _

Lup sighs deeply. “A two of diamonds? Really?”

_ I TOLD YOU IT WOULD COME IN HANDY _ . 

“I almost won.”

_ SURE, SURE. LET IT BE KNOWN THAT I LET YOU WIN MOST OF THOSE ROUNDS TO PROVE A POINT, HOWEVER. _

“What point? Please don’t make a game of cards into a life lesson. Please.”

_ IT IS TOO LATE. IT IS HAPPENING. I AM MAKING IT INTO A LIFE LESSON. _ She snaps her skeletal fingers and the cards, as well as the dealer, disappear from the table.  _ YOU THREW AWAY A CARD YOU THOUGHT WAS WEAK, AND YET IT COST YOU A VICTORY. WHAT YOU MIGHT THINK IS WEAK CAN BE USED AS A STRENGTH. NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER SOMETHING INITIALLY THOUGHT OF AS WEAK CAN REALLY HAVE. _

Lup leans against the arm of her chair and rests her chin in the palm of her hand. “That makes no sense.”

_ YES IT DOES. YOU ARE JUST STUPID. _

“Rude.”

_ JOSHING. AGAIN. MY APOLOGIES. _

“You’re not forgiven.”

The Raven Queen ignores her.  _ YOU DO KNOW THAT ISTUS AND I ARE, AS I HAVE MENTIONED BEFORE, PRETTY TIGHT? _

Lup draws her brow. “Yeah, I know.”

_ SHE HAS INFORMED ME YOU WILL SOON FIGHT A GREAT BATTLE, _ she tells her.  _ I WANT YOU TO BE PREPARED. _

Lup casts her gaze off to the side. “Well, thanks, Boss.”

_ DO NOT MENTION IT.  _ She reaches over and plucks Lup off of her chair, surprising her. She twists in her grip, staring at the vast, endless void below her, before The Raven Queen gently drops her on the floor. When she looks back up to where she was before, both the table and chairs are gone. The Raven Queen is standing in their place, looming over her. 

_ THINK ON WHAT I SAID, _ she says. _ GOOD GAME, LUP. _

“Gonna beat you next time,” Lup tells her.

_ WHAT WAS THAT? _ She begins to recede into the shadows.  _ I FEAR I DID NOT HEAR THAT. DID YOU SAY ‘THE RAVEN QUEEN IS A GENIUS?’ _

“No! You know what I said!”   


_ OH? _ she asks, half shrouded in darkness, her voice growing fainter in Lup’s mind.  _ ‘THE RAVEN QUEEN IS INCREDIBLE AND THE BEST BRIDGE PLAYER EVER?’ _

“Fuck you!”

_ THANK YOU FOR THE MANY COMPLIMENTS, LUP. GOODBYE. _ She sinks into the inky blackness of her surroundings, gone. Lup is alone.

She rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she heads back.

-

Lup lets herself into Kravitz’s apartment, as she’s done a dozen times before. She often finds herself opening his door even when she means to be walking into her own (bland, still sparsely furnished) apartment. Breaking in has become routine. Although she supposes it’s not breaking in anymore since she’s been given permission to come and go as she pleases.

Lup is still going to call it breaking in. It’s cooler that way.

She finds a snack (some gross-but-edible cheese puffs and Cherry Coke), flops onto the couch, and finds a good show to watch. She still shares a Netflix profile with Kravitz. She could easily make a new one for herself and he probably wouldn’t mind, if not be glad, but it’s more fun this way. Besides, she’s already got her shows added to his list and she’s too lazy to go through the same trouble again. 

Five minutes into her watching session, Kravitz portals into the living room. He looks fine— or more than fine, really. Happy. Really happy.

“What’ve you been up to?” she asks.

He suppresses the grin on his face, but the corners of his lips are still slightly upturned. Kravitz settles into the seat next to her. “Oh, you know,” he says. “Business.”

She narrows her eyes. “What kinda business?”

He avoids eye contact with her, instead averting his gaze towards the far wall. “Just— boring work stuff. You know. Nothing.”

Right. Lup knows for a fact that he’s hiding something and he most definitely was not just doing “boring work stuff.” She wants to know, partially out of nosiness and partially because she wants in if it’s something illegal. But how does she get him to talk to her? How does she find out what he’s doing?

She stretches, yawns, leans into the couch cushions, and nonchalantly says, “Cool. Cool, cool, cool.”

A few seconds of silence passes between them before Kravitz cracks and blurts out, his words running together,  _ “I was on a date.” _

Lup gasps, and, eyes wide, smiling, turns back to look at him. “A date?”

His lips still tight and his posture stiff, Kravitz nods wordlessly. 

“With _ who?”  _ she asks. “You can’t just say shit like that and not tell me who!”

There’s another brief silence before Kravitz mumbles something under his breath that Lup can’t quite hear. 

“Sorry, what?” she says.

Again, he mumbles, then buries his face in his hands. 

“You’re gonna have to speak up, babe.”

He takes a deep breath and then, just loud enough for her to hear, squeaks out, “Taako.”

She practically shoots forward in her seat, clutching the edges of the cushions. “You what?”

“Taako!” he all but shouts. “I went on a date with your brother.”

She has to bite the corners of her mouth to keep from laughing. “Oh my God,” she says. “Oh my God. This is the best day of my life.”

He lifts his head from his hands. “What?”

“Not only is my brother dating the fucking Grim Reaper,” she says, “he’s dating my coworker and, dare I say, bestie.”

At that, Kravitz draws back. “Bestie?”

“Oh, come on.” She tilts her head, plastering a grin on her face. “Admit it. You let me come and go when I please, we hunt down bounties together, you don’t get mad when I draw a mustache on your I.D.—”

“— You drew a mustache on my I.D.?”

“— I’m your bestie! Plain and simple.”

“You are  _ not,”  _ he tells her, perhaps too firmly and too defensively to be believable, “my  _ bestie.” _

“Aw, it’s okay to have besties, Krav. I have, like, six of them! That’s six pairs of friendship bracelets! Or, you know, seven after I get finished with ours. Do you like glitter beads or just the plain ones?”

“Stop!” 

“You know what? I’ll do the star shaped ones.”

He throws his hands up. “We were on another topic entirely! Another topic! I went on a date with your brother!”

“Right,” she says. “We’ll come back to this later, bestie.”

He groans.

“So…” Lup raps her fingers on the arm of the couch. “Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna go on a date with Taako, bud? I would’ve warned you about the pocket pudding.”

“Too late,” he says. “Why does he have that?”   


“Snack on the go,” she replies. “I used to have pocket beverages. Kool-aid, orange juice, Blue Gatorade, Capris Sun, Pepsi, and, when we were feeling healthy, Diet Pepsi.”

It’s less of a snack on the go, really, and more something they created to fall back on in case they ran out of food. It was one of the first things Taako started working on when he really started getting good at transmutation— refillable, unending food. Lup helped out, they both researched and practiced, and, eventually, they had their own snack pockets. She’s pretty sure her beverage jacket is still sitting somewhere on the Starblaster. Although, all of that’s probably TMI, especially for the tone of the conversation they’re having now. Besides, it wasn’t all sad. It was especially helpful when sneaking into movie theaters. It  _ was  _ a little awkward for her and Taako to stick a straw into her pocket and drink directly out of it, and it  _ did  _ attract a lot of weird looks, but it got the job done.

“Convenient,” he says. “But I— I didn’t know it was a date until I got there.”

At that, she does laugh, if only a little, but it’s enough to make Kravitz glare. 

“He didn’t  _ tell me,” _ he adds. “He said to meet him and I thought, you know, based on our last conversation, that it was about the fate of his soul, and—”

“Where did he tell you to meet him?”   


He purses his lips. “Chug and Squeeze.”

_ “What?” _

“It’s a wine and pottery establishment. For couples, mostly.”

_ “Kravitz.” _

“I didn’t realize!”

She extends an arm and places a hand on his shoulder. “Dude.”

He smacks her hand away. “Shut up!”   


She probably shouldn’t be teasing him as much as she is— after all, it did take forty-seven years for her and Barry to start dating. She’s not going to disclose that information right now, though. She needs to make fun of his mild obliviousness for just a little longer before he can start mocking her. 

“Okay,” she says, “Fine, fine, fine. But, you know, next time I see him, I’m telling him about the work accent.”

He doesn’t meet her eyes. He only clears his throat and doesn’t offer up a response.

Lup has to suppress the laughing fit she can feel rising within her. “No,” she says around her snorts, “you  _ didn’t.” _

He shrugs.

“Now he knows you’re a dork, Kravitz!” she chides. “I can’t believe you dropped a bomb like that on the first date. You have to build up suspense! Do you even have a sense for drama?”

“It gets tiring to do it all the time!”   


“Weak! You’re weak!”

He holds his hands up. “Can we talk about literally anything else besides my work accent?”   


“You mean your failure to keep up a work accent?”   


“I—” He sighs. “How was your day?”   
“Oh,” she says. “I played bridge with God.”

“You  _ what?” _

“I got bored so I hung out with the Raven Queen.”

_ “How?” _   


“I— I mean, I just walked in and asked if she wanted to hang,” she tells him. “It’s not that hard.”   


“You don’t just walk in and ask to hang out with God.”   


“You do all the time!”   


“Sometimes we both need to unwind with a glass of wine and an assorted cheese platter!”

She’s about to retaliate, but then pauses, thinking. And then she says, “You’re mad because the Raven Queen is hanging out with me now.”   


He scoffs. “I— No— I am not mad. I’m just—”

“Sorry, Krav. Looks like I’m the favorite now.”   


“You—”

“Your time as Employee of the Year is up. The Raven Queen has promised that title to me. She said, and I quote, ‘You’re so cool and smart, unlike Kravitz. I’m firing him and replacing him with you.’”

“I—”   


“‘And you are so much better at cards than he is.’”   


“I’m—”   
“Oh, shit, I almost forgot. What’s this about you not having won a game of bridge for twenty years?”   


He buries his head in his hands and groans.

-

After adequately teasing Kravitz, she grants him reprieve by heading back to her own apartment for a well-deserved nap. She’s tired. She lost a card game, which never happens. She had a long day of getting under her co-worker's skin. Lup has been hard at work improving the office with her existence. 

She crawls under the covers and pulls the comforter over her. She remembers Barry used to sleep with the blanket pulled all the way up to his chin while Lup would just barely cover herself with a thin sheet. She always got hot easily. Barry always got chilly. Luckily for the both of them, because he was always cold and she radiated warmth like a space heater, it created the perfect equilibrium. 

God, she misses him.

As she begins to drift off to sleep, she hears something— a voice, muffled and distorted by radio static— coming from her cloak, draped over the chair in the corner of the room. As she rubs her eyes and flops onto her other side, she hears the faint sound of Taako’s voice asking, _ “Lup?” _

Lup has never been one to scramble out of bed for any reason, but she practically leaps from the mattress to dig her Stone out of the pocket of her cloak. When she finally does, she struggles to keep her hold on it without dropping it. After finally steadying her hands, she replies, “Taako?”

His words crackle out of the speaker. She clutches her Stone so hard it’s a miracle she doesn’t break it. _ “Yeah, that’s me. What’s up?” _

A million thoughts race around in her head. Taako is calling her. Her brother is calling her, despite no longer knowing who she is. She has to stay calm, has to avoid arousing suspicion and pretend she doesn’t know him so as not to scare him away, has to make sure he’s okay just in case he needs her help— What can she say? What does she do? 

“I hung out with God,” she blurts out.

There’s a silence on the other end. 

And, just like that, she’s made it weird. So much for not arousing suspicion.

_ “Do all of you guys do that?” _ asks Taako.

She lets out a breath slowly. He hasn’t hung up yet. That’s a start. 

“No,” she replies. “Just the cool ones.”

_ “... Sure.” _

Another silence. This is the first time she’s been able to have a one-on-one chat with her brother since she died. She hopes it isn’t all silences.

“Hey, um,” she says, “you’re okay, right?”

_ “I mean, yeah,” _ he tells her.  _ “Why wouldn’t I be?” _

“It’s just— uh— I was wondering why you were calling.”

_ “Were you busy?” _

“No!” says Lup, maybe too loudly and too desperately. She coughs nervously and lowers her voice to just a few notches above a whisper. “I just, um… I wanted to make sure. I’d be okay with it if you wanted to keep talking. It’s fine.”

_ “... Right.”  _ He’s quiet for a moment, and then adds,  _ “The Director said you were a friend.” _

She smiles. “Yeah,” she replies. “Yeah, I’m a friend.”

_ “You know the Red Robe,” _ he says, both like it’s a statement of fact and like she should know what that means and how it correlates to Lucretia.

“The, uh…” She tries to understand who he’s trying to reference, but nothing comes to mind. “The Red Robe?”

_ “The— come on,” _ he says.  _ “The ghost. The evil one. The one who tries to tell us how we’re gonna die and shit. That red robe. Doesn’t ring any bells? Nothing?” _

Lup furrows her brow. “I don’t know any evil ghosts. Sorry.”   


_ “He mentioned you by name!” _ His tone is tinged with exasperation. _ “He was, like, talking to you! You know this guy!” _

She shrugs. “Maybe it was some guy me and Krav reaped,” she tells him. “Maybe he escaped.”

_ “Uh-huh,”  _ he replies, although he doesn’t quite sound like he believes her.

There’s yet another silence, and then Lup asks, “Is this why you called?”

There’s hesitation, and then he says, _ “Yeah. I mean, I guess so.” _

Her heart sinks into the pit of her stomach. She doesn’t know what she expected— for him to just call because he wanted to hear her voice, even if she’s a stranger to him? For him to call because he inherently knows she’s important to him? For him to hint that he knows more than he should, to provide her with hope, just because she needs it? He doesn’t know who she is anymore. Taako doesn’t see her as a sister. He doesn’t see her as a friend. He sees her as suspicious.

“Oh,” is all she says in response. “Sorry I couldn’t, uh, be of much help.”

Taako doesn’t reply.

“I’ll let you go, then,” she tells him. “See you.”

She moves to end the call, and then she hears his voice crackle over the speaker:  _ “Wait!” _

She freezes.

And then he asks, _ “You hung out with God?” _

Lup feels a grin spread across her face. “Yeah,” she says. “She beat me at bridge, but just barely.”

_ “‘Just barely’ is what fuckin’ losers say,”  _ he tells her. 

“Shut up, dingus. Do you know that she’s the patron goddess of bridge?”

_ “No excuse. If it were me, I’d’ve taken her entire domain by now.” _

“Don’t bother. It’s boring as fuck here. Do you know what we have? An office building and an ocean of dead dudes taking a nap.”

_ “Mm, wouldn’t mind that,”  _ he says.  _ “I like a good nap. Dead dudes get it.” _

“Right? No one ever appreciates the dead dudes. It’s all, ‘oh, he committed unforgivable death crimes, oh, she was a horrible person, blah, blah, whatever, but they’ve got the whole afterlife thing figured out.”

_ “What did you even play the Raven Queen for?” _

“Oh, you know. Funsies.”

He groans.  _ “You have to play for  _ something.”

“I tried to make her gamble her godhood, but she said no.”

_ “Coward.” _

“Exactly,” she says. And, then, when the lull in conversation again rises, she asks, “Hey, um… Lucretia doesn’t know you have this frequency, does she?”

_ “‘Course not,” _ he scoffs. _ “What do you take me for? A snitch? Do you even know me?” _

She laughs, but it comes out painfully and obviously forced. “Yeah, yeah, totally. Uh—”

_ “Am I not supposed to have your frequency?” _

She bites the inside of her cheek. She knows the answer, but nonetheless asks, “Are you gonna hang up on me if you aren’t?”

_ “No,” _ he replies. _ “I just like to know which rules I’m violating before I break them.” _

Lup expected as much— neither she nor Taako have ever been deterred by an authority figure telling them “no.”

“I just don’t know how she feels about you talking to me,” she explains. “I don’t know how she feels about you talking to, uh—”

_ “— to her friends?”  _ Taako interrupts. _ “Yeah, I get it. You guys know more than I do and have all this top secret info you’re supposed to keep confidential. It’s whatever.” _ _  
_

“It’s not—” She takes a deep breath. Sighs. “I wish I could tell you.”

_ “Does that mean you’re gonna kill me?” _

“No one’s gonna kill you.”   


_ “You guys have a hit out on me right now.”  _ His voice becomes fainter as he yells away from the Stone. _ “Police! Hey, police!” _ _  
_

“Taako—”

_ “Just kiddin’. I would never willingly interact with a cop. Whichever hitman you sent is gonna have to go through Taako.” _

“Sure,” she says. “Listen, there are things you literally can’t know right now, which sucks, but I promise you’ll know soon. And I do wanna keep talking to you. Really.”

_ “Aw, whatever,” _ he says. _ “I think I’m gonna just pretend I know everything and ask her for a raise as blackmail.” _

“She’s just got a lot on her plate.”

_ “So do I!” _ Taako tells her.  _ “Yesterday Merle forced me to play Fantasy fucking Yahtzee with him. And he won.” _   


“But you said I sucked for losing.”   


_ “Yahtzee is different,”  _ he says, although he offers no elaboration. Instead, he continues.  _ “And then Magnus ate my last Hot Pocket. My Bacon Cheddar Cheese Hot Pocket.” _ _  
_

“Oh, yeah, no, that sucks,” she says. She needs to use this time to find out more— to spend time with him. “What else is up with you, Taako?”

_ “What? You trying to dig info out of me to feed to your hitman?” _ _  
_

“There is no hitman.”

_ “Sure, totally—” _

“But there _ is _ an assassin,” she jokes.

_ “Fuckin’ knew it. I knew you were trying to kill me,” _ he says.  _ “Well, I mean, if you want info on me, you’ve gotta answer some more questions.” _

“Whatever you need.”

_ “‘Kay…” _ A couple seconds of quiet, and then,  _ “Why do you have my face?” _

Hm. She can’t very well tell him that she’s his twin. “Coincidence,” she says, for lack of a better response. “Maybe we’re related somehow.”

_ “What was that last part?” _ he asks.  _ “The line cut out.” _

The Voidfish strikes again. She supposes this means he won’t be able to hear any references to their familial connection, no matter how ambiguous she tries to make it. “I just said it was weird.”

_ “Uh huh. And I’ve got a feeling it’s not a coincidence, but whatevs.” _

“I don’t know what to tell you, Taako.”

_ “Yeah, okay. Next question,” _ he says,  _ “why do you  _ talk  _ like me?” _

“My God, Taako.”

_ “You can’t just steal my charming vernacular  _ and  _ my face,” _ he tells her. _ “You should at least let me keep one. Come on.” _

“I just— this is how I talk, okay?” she replies. “You don’t have a copyright on dialects.”

_ “Maybe not, but I’m working on it.” _

“Sure, sure, deffo.”

_ “‘Nother question,” _ he says,  _ “how do you know the Director?” _

This one might be a bit difficult to bullshit. Normally, she’d just try to get around the specifics and be as vague as possible— maybe tell him they were coworkers at a science institute, or they lived together at one point, none of which are untrue, even if they don’t tell the whole story. However, that’d probably only prompt more questions, if he hears it at all. She doesn’t know how much Lucretia has erased. “We used to travel together,” she tells him, which still isn’t technically untrue, but perhaps too ambiguous for the Voidfish to catch. 

_ “Travel where?” _

“All over Faerun.”   


_ “Faerun’s a big place, homie, and I’ve done some traveling myself. Where did you go?” _

This is bad. The only places she knows are from planets long gone. She grits her teeth and forces herself to say, “Phandalin.” despite knowing it’s a bad answer.

_ “Phandalin, huh?” _ he says. _ “Good thing you got your fill of that place before it got torched, I guess.” _

She laughs, but it’s painfully forced. “Yeah.”

_ “What about the Red Robe? Why are you friends with both the Director and the Red Robe?” _

“Taako, I really don’t know who you’re talking about.”

_ “Yes you do! What about the relics? Do you know about those?” _

“Um…”   


_ “What’s the Director planning to do once they’re all gone?” _

She bites the inside of her cheek. “I can’t tell you, Taako. I really can’t. I’m sorry.”

She knows how he’s going to take that— a sign that Lup can’t be trusted, that she’s working with the Director, that she would never let Taako in on their plans. But he doesn’t know about the second Voidfish. He doesn’t know there are things she physically can’t tell him.

Of course, he then snaps, _ “Why is everyone being so secretive?” _

“I’m not trying to,” she explains.

_ “Then tell me! Tell me what’s actually going on!” _ _  
_

“I can’t. I don’t— I don’t want to be secretive, Taako, but I have to.”

_ “What does that even  _ mean?”

“Just, uh…” She draws in a breath. “Let me ask some stuff about you now, maybe? I promise it won’t be personal.” _  
_

And then there’s a crash in the background, and Merle yelling, “Hell yes!” while Magnus shouts, “Not again! Not again!” 

Taako sighs. _ “Gotta go,” _ he tells her.  _ “They broke something and I have to go pretend that I don’t know how to cast mending. I’ll talk to you later.” _ _  
_

Before he can hang up, Lup asks, “You will?”

_ “I mean— sure,” _ he tells her. _ “I’ve got more questions.” _

Taako’s going to talk to her again.

“I’ll, uh— I’ll let you go,” she stammers out. “Talk to you later.”

_ “Later,” _ he says, and then the line goes dead. 

She clutches her Stone, holds it to her chest, and grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and on this episode of "how much can i overuse italics"......  
> i really hope there aren't any bridge players who are reading this. listen. i am so sorry i butchered this game. i watched so many tutorials.... i read so many websites...... i still have no idea how it works. there's a north and south and east and west? and bidding and passes? and a special 2-player version called honeymoon bridge i think?? i dumbed it down significantly for my own sake. i know what ur thinking. "but ao3 writer nillial, why didn't you choose an easier card game?" because i FIRMLY BELIEVE that the raven queen is AN AVID BRIDGE PLAYER and i am STICKING TO THAT.  
> anyways!! i hope you're all doing well!!! i finished avatar this past week!! i only caught a few episodes of it when i was a kid so this was my first time watching it start to finish. however there were some episodes i remember vividly for some reason, which are the cactus juice episode and the one where they all go to see a play so it was very neat to see them again. also toph was my fave when i was a kid and she is still my fave now  
> i hope you enjoyed!!!! thanks for reading!!!  
> edit: i cannot believe i forgot to the "next chapter" part of the end note. so. NEXT CHAPTER: lup and kravitz go on a ghost hunt  
> tumblr: nillial


	11. Ghost Hunt

Lup stares out of the window of her apartment. 

Even in the Astral Plane, signs of the Hunger’s imminent descent are present. The Sea of Souls, already an inky black, somehow seems to have grown darker. Not only that, but sometimes she swears she sees the tiniest movement on the waters. The smallest ripple, the most imperceptible wave, but it’s there. The Sea, usually still and calm, is growing increasingly restless with each passing day. And the stark whiteness of the sky is no longer so bright— instead, she swears it’s dimmer, a murky light gray. She’s not sure anyone’s noticed it, but she knows it’s not the same. This may be her first time living in the Astral Plane, but she can spot signs of the Hunger anywhere.

She just doesn’t know what to do about it anymore.

Lup tears herself away from the sight of the outside and instead chooses to exit her own place in favor of Kravitz’s. He’s got snacks there, at least. All Lup has is a window to look out of and a life-threatening situation to ruminate on. Pretty boring, if you ask her. She’d much rather crash on Kravitz’s couch.

Lup enters Kravitz’s apartment to find him staring into his fridge. It’s not an unusual sight, per se, or it wouldn’t be, if it weren’t for the fact that he seems so focused that he hasn’t yet noticed her come in.

She tiptoes up to him and pokes him on the shoulder. He jumps, yelps, then swivels around to glare at her.

“Hey,” she says. “What’cha doin’?”   


“Looking for something,” he tells her, before turning back to the fridge.   


“Which is?”

“My mozzarella sticks.” He moves some things around, but to no avail. “I was saving them and now I can’t find them.”

Lup purses her lips. She ate those mozzarella sticks. There were only four left and she wanted them so, so badly. 

She shuffles past him, saying nothing, and sits herself down on the couch.

Kravitz shifts his gaze towards her. “Why’d you stop by for?”

“What? Don’t want me here?” She presses her hand to her chest and offers up her best sad face. “Ouch.”

“No, I’m just— I was curious,” he tells her, the slightest bit exasperated.

She shrugs, reaching for the remote. “I got bored. I wanted to watch some TV. You think Fantasy 90 Day Fiance recorded?”

“Yeah. Did it not record for you?”

“I don’t have a TV back at my place,” she says. “It’s pretty bare-bones in there. All I got is a bathroom, a kitchenette, and a bed. Same as it was when I arrived.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah. Can’t go furniture shopping because I can’t portal, can’t summon big old pieces of furniture without it being all fucked up or disappearing after an hour, so I just leave it how it is. Not complainin’, though. It’s a lot better than some places I’ve crashed at. Besides, if I want TV, I just pop on over.” She stops flipping through the channels to tell him, “Oh, but I did manage to summon this gigantic fuckin’ clown painting that takes up an entire wall. It’s horrible. I love it.”

He looks mildly distressed.

She rolls her eyes, but smiles. “Really, Krav, it’s more than okay. It’s got what I need. And, you know, I am dead, so, technically, all I need to survive is the clown painting.”

“Why is the clown painting the necessity?”   


“It’s very spiritually fulfilling,” she responds. “I don’t know where I’d be without Lionel.”

“You named it?”

“Oh, no,” she says.  _ “I _ didn’t name it.”

She goes back to channel surfing and leaves him to digest that himself.

Eventually, presumably after he’s accepted the clown painting named Lionel that manifested in Lup’s apartment, Kravitz sits himself down. After a few minutes of watching Lup flip through shows, however, he decides he’d rather look at his Book of Old Dead Dudes.

“Hey,” he says after a few minutes, “how about we go on a hunt today?”

She groans. “But Fantasy 90 Day Fiance.”   


“You’re not even watching it right now.”

“But I was going to,” she counters.

He gives her a look, stands, and straightens his tie. “Come on. I gotta train you and punching death criminals is training enough, right?”

Lup, in return, glares at him. She selects the play button, leans back, and sticks her tongue out.

Just as the intro begins to play, Kravitz walks over and snatches the remote from her. He clicks a button and the TV’s screen fades to black.

She rolls over to face him. “Hey!” 

“Gotta go beat up death criminals,” he tells her, tossing the remote on the coffee table. “Come on.”

She groans, but sits up all the same. “I’m gonna complain the whole time. I hope you know that.”

“I figured.” He summons his scythe, and, once it materializes in his hands, he swipes downward in the air, creating a rift. Kravitz steps back and motions towards it. “After you.”

She rises from her seat and approaches the portal, but stops just before entering. “If this leads to some weird, fucked up necromancy lair, I’m gonna be real pissed.”

Not waiting for a reply, she steps through.

-

She finds herself in a weird, fucked up necromancy lair. 

It’s a damp cavern, like many death criminals choose to settle down in. She’ll never understand their tastes— the moss creeping up the walls, the dark, murky water dripping from the stalactites pooling in the dips in the floor, the insects crawling out from under their rocks. Lup would find a nice cottage in a sunny valley to do her death crimes in. Necromancy is much more pleasant when performed in a pretty place, next to the lovely open air. Really, how do these people get the corpse stench out of a cave? 

She shakes a spider off of her boot, but, in the process, loses her balance. She steadies herself just in time, but, upon planting one of her feet on the ground, hears a crack. Tentatively, she glances down.   


Lup has just stepped right into a skull. A skull riddled with maggots, which wriggle around in the empty eye sockets. She removes her foot, her stomach turning, and with it, some crushed bone falls off the sole of her shoe.

“Oh, come the fuck  _ on,”  _ she groans.

Kravitz walks out of the portal soon after she does, carefully stepping around the grosser parts of the cave. 

“What did I say about weird, fucked up necromancy lairs, man?” She gestures towards her boots, which now have a fair amount of odd goop on them. “Look at this! I don’t even know what this is! Dead people juices? Maggot broth? I’ll never know!”

He makes a face and not-so-subtly backs away from her dripping shoe. “Technically, it’s not a necromancy lair, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Then why are there skeletons lying around?”   
He shrugs.

Lup sighs and kicks away the skull she just stepped on. “Makes me feel so much better,” she tells him. “Thanks, bud.”

Kravitz doesn’t seem to register her sarcasm, and, if he does, he ignores it. “Anytime,” he says, before kneeling next to the ground and searching the floor.

Lup approaches him, this time more cautious about her suroundings. “Lookin’ for something, my guy?”

He glances up at her, then returns to his search. Whatever he’s doing, he must find it important if he’s willing to look through the weird gunk coating the place. “I’ve been tracking someone,” he tells her, sifting through the solids he manages to find in the cavern’s puddles. “I recently found out he purchased an item at an auction here a long, long time ago.”

“You just now found out he bought something here super long ago,” she reiterates. “Is it just me or are you, like, the worst tracker ever?”

He shoots her a look. “Just you,” he says. “I’m here because I’m trying to figure out what it was he bought. It might be what he’s been using to evade me for so long. If I can find out what it is, I’m one step closer to throwing him in the Stockade.”

“Yeah, deffo, deffo, deffo,” she says, scanning the cave. “‘Dunno if you’ll find anything about a past purchase in a nasty cavern, but you do you.”

“I’ve seen nastier.”   


“Don’t wanna know,” she says. “Who’s this guy you’re after?”

His brow furrows. “He’s eluded me and every other reaper who’s ever tried to catch him for years.” Kravitz’s hand clenches into a fist. Dork. “We call him the Crimson Phantom.”

“Badass name. Do I get one?”   


“You can be ‘Nerd.’”

“I’m not a nerd. Who told you that?”

“It’s pretty obvious on its own.” He turns his attention back to looking for signs of his bounty. “I’ve only seen the Crimson Phantom once. That’s more than anyone else. Some people think he’s just a rumor started by some trainees to get us to waste our time, but I know the truth.”

“Ooh. Mysterious.”   


“Yeah. He sucks.”

“What does he do?”   


Kravitz pauses. “What do you mean?”   


“Like, I know he committed death crimes, but, uh… What does he  _ do?” _

“He, uh…” Kravitz scratches his scalp. “He…”

Lup tilts her head, waiting.

He glares at her. “He does necromancy, okay? And he’s a lich. Is that enough for you?”   


“I ‘dunno. I’m a lich, and I’m pretty rad.”

“This lich sucks. I can guarantee it.” He shuffles along the floor, crouched on his knees, examining more as he goes. “Looking through here might be the answer to how he’s been hiding from me— from all the reapers— for so long.”

Lup is about to say something smartass-ey, but then has a revelation. “Wait, hold on, wait,” she says. “You’re the only one who’s seen the Crimson Phantom before?”   


“Yeah,” he replies. “Before he got away, at least.”

“So you were the one to find out he’s ‘crimson?’”

He pauses. “I guess.”

“Kravitz,” she says, “were you the one to come up with the name ‘Crimson Phantom?’”

Kravitz stares at her, blinks once, twice, then coughs nervously and shifts his eyes to the side.

“Oh my God, you nerd.”

“You just said the nickname was badass!”   


“I mean, sure, if it happened organically as a result of a community collectively yet silently deciding to nickname him. But if you and only you nicknamed him, you had to have come up with something better than ‘Crimson Phantom.’”

“It’s a good name!”

“I can imagine it now. You step out of a portal. Your coworkers gather around. They ask you about him, and you say, all dramatic, ‘He was crimson… a Crimson Phantom.’ And then you put on a wicked pair of shades.”

“Lup, come on.”

“And then I drop in and take your lunch money.”

“Lup.”

“Are you saying that’s not how it happened?”

He sighs and returns to his search. Not long after, something seems to catch his eye. He crouches down next to a pile of green goo and pinches it between his fingers.

Lup retches. “What are you doing?”   


“Investigating,” he tells her, as if that explains  _ anything.  _

“It’s cave juice. I don’t know what clues the cave juice is gonna provide.”

He ignores her. Instead, he touches the goo to his tongue and almost immediately recoils.

Lup presses a hand to her forehead. “Why,” she says, deciding whether to laugh uncontrollably or yell at him to not lick cave juice, what the  _ fuck,  _ “did you eat it?”

Kravitz coughs a few times, scraping his tongue with his fingers. Once he seems to get rid of its taste, he replies, defensive yet perhaps a little ashamed, “I was trying to figure out what it was.”   


“Cave jello, Kravitz! Jello you found in a cave! Something you don’t eat!”

He makes a few more faces, presumably trying to make the taste in his mouth vanish completely, before he speaks again. “I found something out though. My sacrifice is not in vain.”

“Good, because if you ate that as a mortal, you would probably be dead.”

“No,” he says. “I’d be more alive.”

Lup draws her brow.

“This goo is enchanted with Clone,” he explains. “It gives off necromantic energy, but each spell has a specific type of energy, and I— I  _ know  _ Clone spell energy. This is Clone. And because the goo is enchanted, if you were to pour it into a closed container and stick a sample of whoever you wanted to clone in there with it, you would have infinite uses for minimal loss of life.”

“Oh,” she says. “So did it spill out from somewhere?”

“Must have. Clone doesn’t work unless the sample is inside a sealed vessel. Besides, this stuff on the floor isn’t enough to clone anything. It’s just a puddle.” He wipes his hands down on his pants, removing the goo still clinging to his fingers. “This is how he keeps avoiding us. He’s cloning a human body and hiding in it.”

“He’s hiding inside a body? Like, possessing?”   


“No, it’s just an empty vessel without a soul. But when a lich is in a body, it becomes that much harder to detect— less obvious energy, an odd position in the Books, easier to blend in. So long as they don’t go around wearing their necromancy robes everywhere, at least.”

“Thank God, someone else noticed. Don’t those robes fuckin’ suck?”   


“Yes! And they wear them after their weird necromancy club meetings. Like, no, Dennis, no one is staring at you because you did your hair differently this morning. It’s because you showed up to Fantasy iHop in your ugly, dull bathrobe and you smell like death. Seriously.”

“I wish they’d add some spice. At least Mr. Crimson Phantom decided to add a little color.”   


“Exactly.” He seems to snap out of it, instead returning to the matter at hand. “So, anyways— now I know part of the reason why he’s so hard to get to. Now that I have an idea of what I could be looking for— bodies made as vessels— I can get back to looking.”

He summons his book, opens it up, and lets the pages flip until they land on what seems to be a note section, complete with lined paper, messy chicken scratch, and doodles in the margins.

Lup, peering over Kravitz’s shoulder, points to a drawing near the top of the page. “Is that a bird in a cowboy hat?”

He tenses his shoulders and moves the book away from her view. “Maybe. I get bored sometimes.”

He quickly scribbles something down, then scans the previous few pages before snapping the book shut. “There’s another location we need to check out. Come on.”

Without saying anything more, he summons his scythe and opens a portal, gesturing for Lup to follow. He steps through and is gone. Lup is about to enter the rift, but the goo catches her eye first. Hesitantly, she crouches down, dips her fingers in, and tastes it. 

It’s disgusting. It makes Lup want to vomit. It’s like if the taste of two month old milk met the odor of a rotted fish and were blended together in a gross slushie topped with manure.

She kind of wants to gather some in a mason jar and take it home with her. For science. And maybe to see if she can somehow cook with it.

Still, she exercises restraint (and shoves only a little into her pocket). Instead, she follows Kravitz through the portal.

She stumbles out onto a bank of a creek slick with snow and ice, the water frozen over, the plant life covered in frost. Lup shivers from the chill. No small, fleeting clouds form in the bitter air against the heat of her breath simply because she no longer breathes— another thing Lup misses. As much as she hates the cold, she always liked seeing her breath. It’s the one neat thing about winter. Everything else about it always sucked for her.

“So,” she says, pulling her cloak tighter against her, “why are we here and why didn’t you tell me to bring a coat?”

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye while he inspects a tree branch. “You have a cloak.”

“Not warm enough.” When he doesn’t reply, she rolls her eyes and says, “Fine. I’ll make my own heat.”

She sticks out her hands, which are immediately met with a bitter breeze, and creates a flame in her palms. Fire makes the weather much more tolerable. 

Without warning, Kravitz begins to walk into the surrounding woods. Lup begrudgingly follows him. It wouldn’t kill him to tell her where he’s headed and ask her to come along, nor would it be too much of a trouble to summon a few coats. She doesn’t understand how he’s not freezing. 

Eventually, he comes to a sudden halt in a small clearing. “He was here,” he says. “I could sense his lich energy. Faintly. But the trail stops.”

“You think he used the goo?” she asks. 

“Maybe,” he says, “but not here. It takes a while to clone a body— I doubt he’d leave the goo just out in the open like this. He knows how to cover his tracks. I just need to figure out how he’s doing it.”

“Well, you’re doing well so far. Got this green goo stuff. Said hi to some dead guys in a cave. Had a breakthrough about this dude using bodies as vessels or whatever. Seems pretty neat to me. Can we go home now?”

“We need to go a little further,” he tells her. “I’m not sure if the trail breaks off here because he covered his tracks or because he teleported somewhere else. He might’ve been hiding out up here. Come on.”

Without waiting for an answer, Kravitz trudges along through the snow and ice coating the ground and the low-hanging branches of the trees. Lup begrudgingly follows. She hates having to rely on him for a ride back to the Astral Plane. If she knew how to portal, she would have dipped the moment she saw him eat cave juices.

She knows she tasted them, too, but really— he started it.

After a short but nonetheless annoying hike through the woods, Kravitz halts abruptly, lowers to his knees, and starts to dig with his hands.

Lup narrows her eyes, and approaches the spot where he sits. “Kravvy? Hey, Kravitz?”

He mumbles, “M’hmm?”

“What the fuck are you doin’, buddy?”

He barely spares a glance at her before returning to clawing at the frozen ground. “I sense something right here,” he replies. “It’s barely there, but it’s here. I think.”

“You think?”

“I’m, like, ninety percent sure.” He pauses, considering. “Eighty-two percent sure.”

“That’s a lot of confidence for a grown adult tearing up the dirt with their hands like a goddamn Fantasy Minecraft character.”

“Respect your elders,” Kravitz tells her.

“I’m hundreds of years old.”

“Bet I’m older.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah— wait,” he says, suddenly stopping, his arms rigid. Slowly, carefully, he reaches inside the hole he’s dug and pull out—

“A pen,” Lup says. “A broken pen.”

“Not just any broken pen,” Kravitz tells her, much too excited about a pen that’s no longer usable. _ “His _ broken pen.”

“You gonna sell it on eBay?”

“I’m gonna try and use it to track him,” he tells her, stuffing it into the pocket of his cloak. “It’s got a little bit of his energy on it. I bet he dropped it and didn’t notice.”

“Or maybe he tossed it because it’s broken.”

“I have to believe that even the Crimson Phantom is above littering.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a nerd?”   


“You have. Many times.”

“‘Kay, cool, just checkin’.”

Kravitz chooses to ignore her, instead willing his scythe to his grip and opening a rift. “Just one more place,” he tells her. “Then we’re done.”

“So long as you get me out of this cold,” she says, following him through the portal.

-

She ends up in a desert.

She’s been in plenty of deserts before and she greatly prefers hot weather over cold, but  _ Jesus.  _ The sun is beating down on her, drilling a hole into her back, rendering her a lethargic mess in only a few seconds. She sheds her cloak. The breeze, however sparse, feels much better when she doesn’t have a thick coat on. 

She instinctively rubs a hand against her forehead. Of course, nothing comes up. She doesn’t sweat now that she’s dead, which is nice, but it’s something she’s going to have to get used to.

“Well,” she mumbles, “we’re out of the cold.”

Kravitz begins trekking through the sand dunes that stretch out for miles, ignoring the unforgiving heat of the sun, carrying on in his full reaper attire like it’s nothing. Lup follows, if only because she has to. Damn her lack of training and damn Kravitz for making her come along to look for a ghost they’re not going to find. Whoever the Crimson Phantom is, they’re probably long gone from wherever he's searching. 

Without warning, Kravitz ducks below one of the sand dunes. Lup runs (or, rather, leisurely jogs) to where he stands, examining a spot in the sand too intently to not be ridiculed. Fortunately for him, however, she doesn’t have the energy to make up any witty remarks, so she just crosses her arms and waits for him to say something.

“He was here,” he says, finally. 

“I fuckin’ hope so,” she replies. “Otherwise we’re kickin’ it in two hundred degree weather for no reason.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Lup.” He looks up from his findings to shoot her a look. “It’s one hundred fifty degree weather.”

Lup groans.

Kravitz leans down and begins sifting through the sand. After a few excruciating minutes standing in the heat, he uncovers something— a crumpled up piece of scrap paper. He unfolds it and, upon seeing its contents, acts as if he’s just seen a million stars being born right in front of him. 

“Oh, shit,” says Kravitz, a big smile plastered across his face, much too giddy over a piece of paper. “Oh-h-h, shit.”

“What’cha got there?” she asks, craning her neck to see.

He shoves the paper towards her, bouncing with excitement. She peers closely and reads: 

~~_ I’m writing this letter to inform you th _ ~~

~~_ I can’t tell you much, but _ ~~

~~_ We’ve met before. My name i _ ~~

_ Fuck it _

Lup tosses it back to him. He nearly dives for it. “Don’t see how this is helpful,” she tells him.

He clutches the note to his chest, still smiling ear to ear, her friendly jabs apparently going unheard. “I am going to catch this motherfucker,” he tells her, much too happy about a crumpled up scrap of paper. “He’s going down.”

“It’s a  _ note,” _ she reiterates. “How can it help?”

“For one, traces of his energy, like the last thing, and two, I know what his writing looks like now. If I can find more stuff like this— If I can find out who he’s writing these for— I can get him.” He rises from his spot on the ground, his eyes bright. “I’m gonna reap him. I’m gonna be a legend. I’m gonna get so,  _ so _ much cash.”

“Wouldn’t get ahead of myself there, bud,” she says. “I don’t know how much you’re gonna get out of a note, some goo, and a pen.”

“Lup.” He grabs her by the shoulders.  _ “Lup.” _

She draws her brow. He looks a little unhinged. “Um.”

“I’ve found more today than I have this month.”

“Damn.”

“And I found it all so quickly. I usually search for hours in one location.”

“I think you have an obsession, Krav.”

“Do I?”   


“Yes.”   


_ “Do _ I?”   


_ “Yes.” _

“Okay, but look,” he says, too frazzled for someone who doesn’t have an obsession, “I need to know, do— do you— have some sort of connection to the Crimson Phantom? Are you the reason I’m finding all this?” he asks.

She tilts her head. “I think I’d know if I knew any red ghost dudes, buddy.”

Kravitz releases his grip from her shoulders, casting his gaze toward the ground, his brow furrowed. “Right. Right, yeah, sorry.” He turns away, just for a moment, before swiveling back around and shoving a finger in her face. “But do you?”   


She lowers his finger. “No.”

Kravitz takes a deep breath and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, okay, I believe you now. Ready to go?”

She surveys the rolling hills of sand that stretch out for miles, the faint waves in the air above them, the total absence of clouds in the sky and the sun’s unrelenting heat. Lup has something she needs to do. Something she needed to do a long time ago, but couldn’t. Something she can, should do now, if she gathers up the courage to ask for a little help. If she can properly deflect the questions that are likely to follow. If she’s ready. 

She moves past the lump in her throat, and tells him, “I need a lift.”

He looks surprised, but nonetheless replies, “Yeah, sure, anywhere. Where to?”

And here comes the weirder part. “Can you do specific coordinates?”

-

Lup instructs him to open a portal about five minutes away from the actual spot. Evidently, his lich senses are sensitive, and she can’t risk him catching onto Barry’s trail. Her boyfriend’s capture is the last thing she needs.

“Alright,” she says, swinging her legs through the rift and onto the ground in front of her, her back straight, her hands planted on her hips. “Thanks for the ride, Kravvy. You’re a good GPS. Much appreciated.”

Kravitz’s face is twisted in confusion. He looks at her, brow drawn, nose scrunched, lips pursed, and then back at their surroundings. “This is where you wanted to go?” he asks. “The middle of nowhere?”

The middle of nowhere is a dense rainforest thick with vines, trees, leaves, and all kinds of foliage and wildlife. Although humid, it’s much cooler than the desert they were in before, and she much prefers the sight of a frog scooting along and a sloth dropping by to a lifeless landscape of sand dunes and rocks. She leans down, kneeling against the discarded rainforest debris of rotted plants and leaves in order to let a lizard crawl onto her finger. 

She stands to show Kravitz her new pal. “Look at this!” she says. “I’m naming her Lup 2.”

He takes a few steps back, leaning away from where her little green lizard is perched. His lip is curled in disgust. “I hate Lup 2,” he tells her meekly, yet passionate, as if he’s afraid the lizard will attack if she hears him but also has strong convictions about little rainforest lizards. 

“She’ll remember that,” he tells him, clutching Lup 2 close to her face.

Kravitz rolls his eyes, then takes a step back, looking around at his surroundings. “What is it you wanted to do here?”

“I just, um…” Lup rocks back and forth on her heels, thinking. How does she say this? “I have to take a look at something. And I have to do it… alone. Could you wait here?”

Kravitz narrows his eyes, but thankfully doesn’t pry any further. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have even taken her here, let alone do so without questioning it aloud. “Okay.”

Lup grins wide. “Thank you,” she tells him. And then she shoves Lup 2 into his hands, making Kravitz yelp while his face twists into something between revulsion and shock. “Watch her for me.”

Ignoring Kravitz’s protests, she sprints into the thick of the rainforest. Handing someone a lizard after they’ve expressed clear distaste for it probably isn’t the best way to thank them for their trust and discretion, but  _ hey.  _ She tries.

After a few minutes of ducking under low-hanging branching, navigating through the denseness of the trees, and hacking away at vines with her scythe, she finds it.

There, in the middle of a small clearing, its wood rotted and its exterior covered in moss and mold, is a hut.

Back when they had first arrived on Faerun, not long after they’d put the relics into circulation, she and Barry decided to explore the area surrounding the Starblaster. The rainforest, they discovered, was only a day’s trip from where the Starblaster was parked. On their first visit, they spent a couple of days hiking through the rainforest, studying the plants and wildlife, and, in the process, came across a little natural clearing, just big enough for a small shelter. And so they wrote down coordinates, came back with supplies, and they made a shelter. 

It wasn’t much— just wooden boards haphazardly nailed together, really— but it was somewhere they could disappear to, if only for a little while. Where they could take notes on pretty birds and study weird flowers and huddle together in a poorly constructed hut and pretend they could live that way forever. It was their spot. A place just for the two of them.

If Barry were to look for her, maybe he would have stopped by. Maybe he would have left something for her. Anything at all.

Lup takes a deep breath and steps inside.

If the place was falling apart before, it’s in utter disrepair now— grass and mushrooms have taken root in the dirt floor, plants have spread across the ground and climbed up the walls, the roof has nearly caved in and the walls are leaning to one side. She remembers how she and Barry used to spread out their sleeping bags here and talk to one another in hushed voices about the things they’d seen, what it meant, where they could go in the future after the Hunger had been thoroughly and entirely defeated (a child’s fantasy— they both knew the Hunger would never be completely destroyed by their plan. It was weak, and its powers were rendered useless, but it was there. Always there. Waiting. Spying. Festering in the background like a rotting corpse that couldn’t be buried). They’d clear out the weeds, chase away any animals that’d taken up there, and then they’d settle in. That’s how it was. That’s how Lup wishes it still could be. 

They brought a chest with them once. Just one big enough to put supplies in so they’d always have them there. That chest is still there, sitting in the same place in the corner, left untouched. It’s where Barry would have left her something. A note. A gift. Instructions on where to find him. 

Lup almost doesn’t want to open it. Almost.

She approaches, ignoring the lump in her throat and the fear burning in her chest, and she lifts the lid.

A cloud of dust a decade in the making rises from the place she’s disturbed it. She waves it away and, after a few seconds, it dissipates. She sees no note, no gift from Barry readily apparent, so she begins to rifle through the chest’s contents. She tosses aside a length of rope, a compass, a map, a first aid kit, discards expired energy bars and old bottles of water, shoves away books on flora and fauna identification and spare notebooks— still, she comes up with nothing. She desperately checks and rechecks the bottom of the lid, then lifts the chest entirely, just in case he’s hidden it. She wonders if there’s a false bottom, so she pulls at the wooden base, begging it to give way, for it to easily slide open and reveal what she’s hoping for, to please, please, please help her out. But nothing is there. Nothing was ever there.

She kicks the chest from her position on the ground, once and then twice and then a third time for good measure. Lup sinks her hands in her hair, leaning backwards until she lands flat on her back with a _ thump. _ Of course nothing is there. Of course she’s going to get no help finding Barry. Of course she can’t ask for any, either— her family doesn’t remember, Kravitz hunts liches, and The Raven Queen would probably throw her in the Stockade the moment the words left her mouth. Of course. She dies, she misses a decade, she comes back to a world without her boyfriend and her brother and her best friends, with the Hunger descending, with secrets she’s been forced to keep. Why should she have this? Why shouldn’t this be hard, too?

She wants to scream. So she wads up her cloak, holds it against her face, and screams.

She thought— she thought maybe he’d come here. She thought maybe he’d leave her something. She thought maybe, maybe despite all the danger of returning to a place he’d already been, despite the futileness of looking for a woman he hasn’t seen in years in a place she isn’t likely to show up in, despite the hut staying empty for so long, collecting dust, rotting and rotting and rotting, maybe he’d come. Maybe he’d tell her where he is. Maybe he’d leave clues for her to follow. Something. Anything.   


She doesn’t know what she thought.   


She supposes she shouldn’t wallow too much in her own self-pity. She’s not in the Stockade. She’s been freed from the umbrella. She has a great friend who puts up with her walking into his house like it’s her own, and who yells at reality TV shows with her, and who laughs with her even when the jokes fall flat. Her life post-silverpoint hasn’t been  _ all  _ horrible, even if it’s been pretty fucking shitty. 

She just wants her boyfriend back. She wants to hold him again. She wants to go home.

But part of Lup’s home is off God-knows-where and the rest is on the moon doing God-knows-what. Her home has been scattered to the winds and she’s been left to pick up the pieces.

She heaves a sigh and rolls onto her side, watching an insect scutter across the ground in front of her. 

She’s so tired of missing everyone. She’s tired of watching the Hunger creep its way down. She’s tired of loneliness, and she’s tired of sorrow, and she’s tired of this helpless, awful feeling that’s been eating her up since she left the Umbrastaff.

If Barry won’t leave her something, she will.

She sits up, tearing a page out of one of the notebooks filled with unfinished research that had been locked away in the chest. She wills a pen to her hand, presses the paper against the flat of her knee, and writes: _ I’m okay. In Astral Plane. I love you, --L. _

She doesn’t know if he’ll find it. She doesn’t know if he’ll even understand it if he does come across it. But she knows that it’s there if he ever needs it.

Lup rises to her feet, takes one last look at the shelter, and heads back.

-

When she returns to Kravitz, he’s in front of a two feet deep hole and holding a wrapper caked in mud and dirt.

“Uh,” she says, almost too afraid to ask, “what’cha doin’, buddy?”

He rips his eyes away from his newfound treasure/garbage. “Look at this,” he says, leaping to his feet and excitedly shoving it in her face.

Lup carefully lifts a finger and lowers it. “It’s an energy bar wrapper,” she tells him, just in case he doesn’t know. He seems way too enthusiastic about digging up some trash.

“Not just any energy bar wrapper, Lup.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “The Crimson Phantom’s energy bar wrapper.”

“Mm, okay, I think you might need a nap, man.”

“No, it’s for real!” He pauses, then takes a long sniff of the wrapper. “I think. Do you smell lich on this, Lup?” He tries to shove it towards her once again.

“Not gonna smell some garbage you dug up,” she tells him. “Can we, like, go home before you start unearthing more trash?”

He sighs, but summons his scythe all the same. “Do you realize how big this is, Lup?” he asks, lazily slicing open a rift. “Four belongings in one day. Four!”

“Three and some trash,” she corrects. “Two, if you disregard the weird goo.”

“I’m counting the goo. The goo is probably the most important thing I’ve found.”

“Weird sentence. Very weird thing to say. I’m going to step through this portal now.”

And she enters the portal.

-

Kravitz exits the portal soon after Lup does. 

She stretches, yawns, and says, “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a nap. Too much trash-sniffing for one day.”

“I asked you to sniff  _ one  _ wrapper.”

“That’s one too many times, my dude.” She reaches for the doorknob to Kravitz’s apartment, but stops when he interrupts her.

“You’re not gonna sleep in your bed?” he asks.

“Eh, other people’s couches are always comfier.” Lup tilts her head. “I mean, I can sleep in my bed if you want me to. Makes no difference to me. A place to sleep is a place to sleep.”

“No, no,” he says. “Go ahead.”   


“Great, because I really wanted to crash on that couch.” She swings the door open and takes a running leap towards his couch, landing on it with a soft  _ thump, _ sinking into the cushions. She is so sleepy and Kravitz’s couch is so comfy. “Think I might live here forever,” she mumbles.

Sleep weighs heavy on her eyelids. She begins to drift off when she hears Kravitz’s voice say, “You could.”

Her eyes shoot open. She turns over to face him. “What? Live on your couch?”

He fidgets, shifting side to side. “No, like… live here.” He sighs. “You could move in with me.”

Lup nearly falls off the couch trying to sit up. “Like, for real?”   


“Yeah. I mean, you’re always here anyways, and I’ve got a spare room I could clean out, so—”

She jumps out of her seat, bounds up to him, and wraps him in a tight hug.

He tenses under her grip. “Uh.”

“We  _ are  _ besties. It’s official now,” she says. “Roommate besties.”

“Not gonna call you my bestie.”

“But you’re not denying that we  _ are  _ besties, right?”

Instead of answering, he awkwardly reaches out and returns the hug by patting her on the back. “I’m gonna go move your bed in here.”

She pulls away from him. “Don’t even worry about that, Skeletor. I’ve got Levitate.”

“How?” he asks. “That’s transmutation.”   


“Taako taught me a few things. I taught him a few fire evocation spells, so, uh, watch out for those, I guess.”

“Noted. How’s this: I’ll move your mattress and you move your bed frame.”

“Fuck yeah. Won’t even have to disassemble it.”   


“Do you have anything else you need to get from there?”

She grins. “Oh, yeah, thanks for reminding me. I got a nightstand, a lamp, and, of course, I’ve got to pick up Lionel the Clown Painting.”

“I don’t want Lionel the Clown Painting in my apartment, please.”

“But where will he go?”   


“In a dumpster fire, preferably.”   


Lup shrugs, heading for the door. “Alright, but when he comes back with a vengeance, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What do you mean?” he asks as Lup makes her way out. As she begins to walk towards her former apartment, he calls out, “Lup, what do you mean ‘come back with a vengeance?’” 

-

She’s laying sprawled out on her bed in her new room in Kravitz’s apartment. Or, rather, their apartment. She’s going to raid his fridge more than ever before.

The room she resides in used to be some sort of study Kravitz had put together that was more so just a bookcase, a chair, and a bunch of storage containers full of random junk and old keepsakes from when he was living. They both took it down to the break room fridge and shoved it in a deep corner of the void until Kravitz can make a pocket dimension big enough to sustain all of his things. Part of her wants to dare Jim to try and steal a bunch of boxes from the fridge, but she feels that’s tempting fate. If he steals something as sacred as lunches, what won’t he take?

From where she lay, she hears Kravitz walking from his bedroom to the living room, the thud of his footsteps receding. She hears the muffled sounds of the TV droning on. She hears the faint whirring of the coffee machine brewing a cup of that godawful cinnamon shit Kravitz has been drinking lately. She hears, for the first time in a long time, the comforting noise of someone else living alongside her. 

She begins to drift off into a much-needed nap when she hears her Stone vibrating from its place on the bedside table. She immediately feels herself awakening.

Taako.

She scrambles to grab it and accept the call. 

Crackling over the speaker, a familiar voice says,  _ “Hello?” _

He’s calling. He’s calling again. Oh, shit. 

“Hey,” she says. Taako was always so much better at pretending he didn’t care. Lup, however, can’t seem to hide the excitement in her voice. “What’s, um— what’s up? What’s goin’ on?”   


_ “Oh, you know,”  _ he says. _ “Magnus keeps trying to do cartwheels in enclosed spaces. Merle set the vacuum on fire. The usual.” _

“Sounds usual.”

_ “How you holdin’ up in Hell?” _

“Mm, I’m okay. Krav and I went on a ghost hunt but just found trash. And goo. I kept some of the goo, of course.”   


_ “Thank God. If you find weird goo, you always have to keep it.” _

“And I moved in with him.”

_ “Oh shit, sweet. He regret it yet?” _ _   
_

“It’s been, like, fifteen minutes, so, yeah. Probably.”

He snorts, and then there’s silence. It’s more comfortable this time than it was the last call he made— that sort of silence was filled with tension and nervousness. This one is more like how the silence between them used to be. 

And then she asks, “Hey, Taako?”

_ “M’hmm?” _ _   
_

“How, um— how is everyone?”

_ “What’cha mean ‘everyone?’ Like, Magnus and Merle?” _

“Plus Lucretia. And Dav.”

_ “Dav?” _

“Davenport.”

_ “You know him?” _

“I, uh…” She knows him. Not as the Director’s assistant, like Taako might, but as her captain. As her friend. “Yeah, I know him.”

_ “He’s good,”  _ he tells her.  _ “Pulled a prank on me yesterday.” _

“He did?”

_ “Yeah. He came up to me with a tray full of hors d’oeuvres, and natch I was like ‘Oh, rad, the Bureau’s gettin’ fancy’, so I reached over to take one and they were illusions. Then he snickered and ran off. I didn’t even know he could do illusion magic. Dude’s got tricks up his sleeve.” _ _   
_

During the times of the IPRE, Davenport was a master illusionist, and, although he didn’t do them too often, he was really good at pranks. He once convinced Lup she’d been cursed with Rapunzel hair that couldn’t be cut. Of course, this led to some damage on her actual hair, which Lup had choppily cut with safety scissors in the bathroom mirror in an attempt to lose the several yards of hair she thought she had. That was the year Lup sported a style that was a cross between an uneven bob and a mullet. 

“Sounds like it,” she says. “And Lucretia?”

_ “Ah, I ‘dunno. She’s been off lately. I think it’s the weather?”  _

“The weather?”   


_ “She keeps staring out the window. Moon weather is weird. It keeps looking like it’s gonna rain but it doesn’t rain here. So, yeah, could be the weather. Could be that she’s pretending she’s in one of those sad music videos. Either one.” _

Instead of something witty, she just replies with, “Ah.” Lucretia’s nervous. Lup’s nervous, too. She’s the only other person she’s in contact with that knows the Hunger is approaching. She, too, understands what they’re about to face. She can only hope she’ll protect those who don’t.    


_ “ _ _ How do you guys even know each other?”  _ he asks.  _ “Like, I know you traveled together, but how’d you meet?” _

Lup raps her fingers against the edge of the mattress she’s sitting on. She thinks she can fudge the truth enough to make this believable. “We met at a work thing.” 

_ “Like, for the Bureau?” _

“No, before that. It was a, uh, adventuring party sort of thing. We had to kill a monster.”

_ “Oh, dunk. What was the payout? I bet that’s how the Director built the Bureau— sweet, sweet monster cash.” _

“No, we, um— we didn’t get paid. We didn’t kill it. It’s still out there.”   


_ “Aw. Do you want me and the two dumbasses to get it? We keep dying and coming back, so I’m pretty sure we’re immortal,” _ he says.  _ “I’ll do it, for, uh… How’s a couple hundred thousand sound?” _

“I’m not gonna make you kill the monster. I will, however, pay you ten gold if you find a way to Postmates food to the Astral Plane. I have had a hankering for nuggets for so long now and they have  _ no  _ fast food up here, man.”

_ “I’ll do it for twenty gold.” _

“Twelve.”

_ “Seventeen.” _

“Fifteen.”

_ “Fine. There’s this little dude I know that’s somewhere between, like, eight and twelve years old. He loves sleuthing shit out. I’ll tell him it’s an extracurricular activity.” _

“Why do you need fifteen gold to tell an infant to do it?”

_ “Uh, services rendered. Who else is gonna tell him to find a way to deliver Postmates to Hell?” _

“That’s fair, I guess.”

_ “Weren’t you telling me about my boss?” _

“Oh, right,” she says. “We failed to kill a monster, we traveled a bit, and we were roommates for a while. That’s about it.”

“That’s about it” doesn’t begin to cover what really happened, but it’s all she can say. 

_ “Neat,” _ he says. _ “You roomed with my boss and now you’re rooming with the Grim Reaper.” _ _   
_

“I’m the Grim Reaper, too, Taako.”   


_ “Eh.” _   


“What do you mean ‘eh?’”

_ “I’ve seen your skeleton form. It’s not as intimidating.” _ _   
_

“I’m working on it, okay? It used to be cooler.”   


_ "Totally, totally, yeah.” _

“You sound like you don’t believe me.”

_ “Prob’ly ‘cause I don’t.” _

“Ouch, Taako. Ouch.”

_ “Just sayin’,” _ he tells her, _ “it’s very basic. Very cookie-cutter skeleton-in-a-cloak get up. You need something to spice it up a little, is all. Spice up your reaping.” _

“I’m planning to enter out of a wall of flames every time I see a death criminal.”   


_ “ _ _ Oh, that’s good. Can you get a smoke machine?” _ _   
_

“I don’t need a smoke machine.”   


_ “There. Right there. Perfect catchphrase.” _ _   
_

“I, uh— I don’t think ‘I don’t need a smoke machine’ is gonna catch on.”

_ “Nah, it’ll work. Trust me. I used to have a cooking show and used a million catchphrases. The fan-favorite was, “Now  _ that’s _ what I call brining!’” _

She jolts straight up from her bed, her back pin-straight. “You had a cooking show?”

_ “Yeah,”  _ he tells her.  _ “‘Sizzle It Up! with Taako.’ It was kind of popular back in the day. I had a traveling caravan and everything.” _

Taako is a kickass chef— though not as kickass as Lup, of course— so it only makes sense that he’d have spent his decade doing a cooking show. She just wishes she could have been there for it. “That’s fuckin’ rad, Taako.”

_ “Yeah,” _ he says.  _ “I know.” _

“Are you still doing it?”

_ “No,” _ he tells her.  _ “I was framed for murder so now there’s a warrant out for my arrest.” _ _   
_

Lup nearly falls off the bed. She and Taako have never exactly been law-abiding model citizens, but  _ what the fuck?  _ “What the fuck?” 

_ “Yeah. One show, I handed out samples and everyone started making these horrible gagging noises and… dropping. My, uh, my whole thing was transmuting ingredients, so I thought I had transmuted something into nightshade by accident, and I just— I ran. While they died in front of me.” _ He takes a breath, slow, shaky.  _ “Forty of ‘em.” _

She doesn’t know what to say. _ I should have been there for you. I should have done something. I shouldn’t have been stuck in a fucking umbrella in the middle of nowhere, I shouldn’t have died when we needed each other most, I shouldn’t have left you.  _ But she doesn’t say anything.

Taako continues. _ “Come to find out my assistant put arsenic in the food in an attempt to kill me, but I didn’t know until recently, and, you know, who’s gonna believe an alleged mass-murderer who’s been in hiding for years, right? The damage’s been done. I lost everything. I ran all over the place hoping no one would know who I was. I only ate pre-packaged shit for months because I was too afraid to cook,  _ plus  _ I’m still wary about transmuting ingredients. I’m gonna get my revenge, though, so no prob.” _ He pauses. _ “What the fuck?” _

“Yeah, really,” she mumbles, her tone flat as she tries to mask her shock and sorrow and anger all at once. She feels the fire burning in the pit of her stomach. Lup certainly knows who she’s gonna use her new reaper powers on next.  _ Nobody  _ fucks with her brother.

_ “No, I mean, like, what the fuck?” _ Taako’s voice grows frantic, despite his obvious attempts to revert back to nonchalance and casual humor. Lup’s heard the shake in his voice before. The nervous chuckle. She can tell what he’s trying to do.  _ “I don’t— I don’t tell people all of that. Especially not strangers. What— what the  _ fuck?”

“What do you mean?”   


_ “I mean— I mean I just opened my mouth and it all came out.”  _ Silence.  _ “Did you— did you Zone of Truth me over the Stone?” _ _   
_

“No! Of course not!”

_ “Then what was that? Why did I tell you that? I don’t— I don’t know you. I don’t—” _ _   
_

“Taako,” she interrupts, “are you okay?” She’s going to pretend it doesn’t hurt to be referred to as a stranger. She’s going to pretend they didn’t used to tell each other everything. She’s going to pretend to be only mildly concerned with Taako nearly being killed and then being led to believe he murdered dozens of others instead of ready to clear her brother’s name and kick the shit out of that assistant. She couldn’t be there for Taako when all of this went down, so she’s going to be here now. And that starts with asking if he’s okay.

_ “I’m— yeah, yeah, it’s whatever, I’m just— God.” He takes a deep breath. “Please forget I said all that.” _   


“Kinda hard to do that,” she says.

_ “Yeah. No, I know.” _ He’s quiet for a moment, and then,  _ “I, uh… Huh.” _

“Listen, Taako, I’m right here if—”   


_ “No, no, stop,” _ he says, cutting her off.  _ “I, uh… I think I’m just gonna dip, Face-Stealer.” _ _   
_

“Oh.” She’s not ready for a goodbye yet, so, before he can hang up she says, “Wait!”   


_ “What?” _   


“Don’t you have questions for me? Like last time?”   


_ “ _ _ Uh. No, not really.”  _ A moment of quiet passes, and then he adds,  _ “I just like talking to you.” _

At that, Lup bursts into a grin. He likes talking to her. “Me too.”

Yet another silence passes between them before he tells her, _ “See you later.” _

“See you,” she replies.

And the line cuts out. 

She takes a deep breath in and clutches the Stone close to her chest. 

He likes talking to her. He called her just to talk. A part of him remembers their dynamic, their comfort in each other, even if his conscience can’t acknowledge it. 

One day soon, he’ll know.

Lup stashes her Stone in the drawer of her nightstand, rolls over, and drifts into a restful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lup and kravitz cooking lessons volume 2: lup and krav make meals with cave jello  
> hey folks!!!   
> hope you're all doing okay! ive got my cat snoring on me rn. sometimes she's very clingy and other time she bites n scratches my entire hand for no other reason than that it is there. also she climbs up my back like a little mountain climber with very sharp claws bc she likes to ride on my shoulder. when she does this i go "OW! OW!!!" in an attempt to let her know it hurts very badly but i think she thinks its like how a train conductor says "ALL ABOARD!!!" just a fun thing i do to let her know i will be starting the ride soon. she is so very rude. i love her  
> anyways. i hope ur all doing well and i hope you enjoyed this chapter!!!!!! <3 NEXT CHAPTER: the suffering game!!! :)  
> thanks for reading!  
> tumblr: nillial


	12. The Last Call

Lup exits the portal Kravitz has made for them, her arms full of shopping bags.

“This place is about to get so much better,” she says, immediately dumping them all on the coffee table. 

Kravitz follows behind her, also carrying a mountain of bags. He drops them rather unceremoniously onto the ground the moment he walks into the apartment, then wills the portal closed. “I don’t know about that.”

“Aw, come on. How do you not wanna decorate this place?” She gestures to the room they’re standing in, which, although well-furnished, has few adornments. The walls are a plain white, the curtains are a basic black, and there are no paintings (unless you count Kravitz’s most recent Employee of the Year award, which he has framed above the mantel). “We’re about to Fantasy HGTV this whole apartment.”   


“I just don’t know if it’ll look…” He pulls one of Lup’s decorations— an eye-searing hot pink clock with an anime girl on its face— out of a bag. “... good.”

“Oh, shut up. I have impeccable taste. Besides, you’re the one who got this.” She reaches inside a shopping bag and reveals one of Kravitz’s choices: a black metal plate with two plague doctors on either side of some text that reads  _ Wash Your Hands. _

“It’s perfect! It’s perfect bathroom decor!” he argues. “I just— I don’t know. I feel like our tastes will… clash, is all I mean.”

“You mean compliment each other perfectly?” she asks. “This is our apartment, man. We can do whatever the fuck we want. In fact, I think I’m gonna nail a stuffed animal to the wall right now.”

“Please don’t.”   


“No, it’s definitely gonna happen. But first, we’ll put all these up.” She begins to dig around in the bags before pulling out a stone statue of a kitten with bat wings. “Aw, is this yours?”   
He snatches it away from her. “I’m putting her on the mantel.” 

“Her?”   


At that, he looks sort of embarrassed, but presses on anyways. “We aren’t allowed to have actual pets in the apartments, so she’s my cat now. I’m calling her Meredith.”

“Kravitz? Hey, Kravitz, can I tell you something?” She grabs him by the shoulders. “That is  _ adorable.” _

He pulls away from her, scoffing, visibly flustered. “It’s not— I just— I’m putting her on the mantel now!” 

Lup grins. Instead of teasing him more, however much she wants to, she reaches into one of the shopping bags and pulls out a small welcome mat. Somehow, whoever made it managed to fit in tye-dye, zebra print,  _ and  _ cheetah print, as well as text that reads  _ WELCOME TO THE CARTER HOUSEHOLD.  _ She has no clue who the Carters are.

She unfurls it and sets it down in front of the door. It looks fantastic, of course, and it’s going to look even better once she hangs up her painting of a dog playing the accordion. God, she is so good at decorating. Lup truly is a woman of many talents.

She calls to Kravitz. “How’s Meredith lookin’?” 

“Great,” he replies. “I put your weird clock over the houseplant.” 

“First of all,” she says, walking towards him, “my clock is not weird, it’s fuckin’ phenomenal. Also, if you get to name your cat statue, I’m naming my clock.”

“Are you taking the clock as your pet?”

“Yes. And his name is Kravitz.”

“You’re naming it  _ Kravitz?” _

“What’s wrong with it? It’s a perfectly good name.” She leans toward her clock, which ticks away on the wall. The anime girl drawn inside of it stands frozen, winking over her shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Kravitz?”

“You’re the worst.”

“Was I talking to you?”   


“I really can’t tell.”

“Then my job is done.”

Kravitz (the person, not the clock) rolls his eyes and returns to rifling through their bags of stuff, most of which is utter garbage, thanks to Lup. Although she’s never quite understood why decorating a space with utter garbage is a bad thing— she loves the garish, and the shiny, and the gaudy, and most of that just happens to come from someone who threw those garish, shiny, gaudy things in a trash bag and gave it away. It’s fun. What’s the point of decorating a place if you’re not going to make it fun?   


She pulls out a bag of iridescent wall decal letters, many of which are missing. They must have spelled out a message at some point, but Lup would have never used them for some dumbass quote anyways. “I’m gonna use these to spell out ‘fuck’ on this wall over here,” she says.

“Go for it,” Kravitz replies, taking out a skull-shaped throw pillow. 

She begins to stick them on the wall next to the couch. The letters vary in size and don’t at all look right next to each other, but it doesn’t matter. She’s just happy to see the word “fuck” shine against the living room’s lights. Maybe this had been her calling all along. Instead of a scientist, she should have been an interior designer. 

Lup goes back to their bags of stuff and finds a door wreath of black thorns decorated with paper skulls. She tosses it to Kravitz. “I assume this is yours, Edgar Allen Poe.”

He catches it, then begins to turn it over in his hands. “At least we’ll immediately know which door is ours.”

“I don’t know.” She gestures to their surroundings, which looks like an old storage unit of a 12 year old girl’s things threw up on some goth kid’s bedroom. “I think we’d know if we stepped into the wrong place.”   


“Maybe, but…” He holds up his wreath. “Don’t you love this? It’s so cute.”   


She reaches over a hand and pats him gently on the shoulder. “Oh Kravitz,” she says. “Never change.”

Kravitz furrows his brow in confusion and moves away to go hang up his wreath on the door.

Lup goes through more of her stuff, and then, finally, comes across the best part of all.   


“Oh, fuck yeah,” she mutters. 

Kravitz pokes his head back into the room. “What?”

In response, she gathers up her new curtains into her arms and unfurls them for him to see in all their glory.

His face twists into an expression she doesn’t quite know what to make of. She’s going to assume it’s positive. “Are those—”

“Flame-patterned curtains? With a Fantasy Flavortown logo on the corner? Yes, Krav! Yes they are! And they’re replacing your boring, plain curtains.” She sets the wad of fabric on the coffee table and moves towards the window.

“Will you even be able to see the logo?” he asks. “It might be hidden by the couch.”

At that, Lup holds the top of the curtain up to the rod and drapes the bottom part over the back of the couch so the logo is clearly visible. “Eh? Eh?”

“I don’t know if that’ll be so comfy.”   


“Nonsense. It’ll be like a blanket. Besides, knowing that my love for Mr. Fieri is hanging proudly on this wall for everyone to see is comfort enough.”

“Sounds great,” he says. “And what am I gonna do with my old curtains?”   


“Oh, that’s easy.” She snaps and a small, flickering flame lights in the palm of her hand. “Burn ‘em.”   


“Mm, I don’t know—”   


“Burn ‘em!”   


“I feel like that’s, like, dangerous, so—”   


_ “Burn ‘em!” _   


“Oh, okay. Burn ‘em.”

Lup eagerly obliges, touching the flame to the corner of the old curtains and watching as they eat away at the cloth, ash drifting to the floor in their wake. It spreads rather quickly. Too quickly, maybe, but Lup likes to watch the fire dance across the width of the curtain and wants to indulge in it for as long as she can before she eventually has to put it out.

Unfortunately, before long, the curtains are gone and the flames reach the rod. Kravitz interrupts her thoughts with an, “Uh, Lup?” 

She sighs and casts Control Flame— another spell Taako taught her— effectively extinguishing all of the fire and the remaining embers, just like Fantasy Smokey the Bear would have wanted. After clearing away the brittle remains of the scorched curtains, she gets to work stringing up the new and improved ones. Before too long, she’s finished. Lup steps back to admire her handiwork. As expected, it’s gorgeous. 

“I think I’m gonna quit to be an interior designer,” she tells Kravitz.

“Oh, yeah, go for it,” he says. “You can retire and make, like, an interior design business in the Sea of Souls. Really spice it up down there.”   


“They need some spicing up. And I’m just the gal to do it.”   


“I’ll just go and tell the Raven Queen that you’re leaving. We’ll all miss you so much, good luck, bye.”   


She smacks him on the shoulder. He grins.

Lup has missed this. She’s missed living with another person— with a friend. Lup has spent years alone. She’s not going to do that ever, ever again. She can’t. 

After a century in the Starblaster and another ten in the Umbrstaff, she’s come to half-expect late night whooping and hollering, the sound of heavy footsteps clanging along the metal hallways, the whirring of the coffee machine at three in the morning. Instead, the Astral Plane is just quiet. Quiet and still.

That quiet stillness is what the Umbrastaff side of her has come to accept. Quiet stillness was the norm for her for so long. Still, it makes her stomach churn— like if she goes to sleep in silence, she’ll somehow wake up back in there. Trapped. 

But Kravitz is here. She feels better knowing Kravitz is here.

She collapses on the couch, careful not to tug on the part of the curtain that’s draped over the back cushions. “Too much decorating for today,” she says. “TV time.”   


“We still have all these bags to go through,” Kraviz argues, although he doesn’t seem too adamant about getting back to accessorizing the place. 

“Krav.” She lazily flops over from where she lay. “TV time.”

He sighs, rolls his eyes, but nonetheless grabs the remote from the coffee table and settles in beside her. 

-

Lup is relaxing on her bed, as full as a tick after the dinner she made this evening. While they were out this morning trying to find the best decorations, she may or may not have convinced Kravitz to let her stop by the supermarket and pick up some ingredients. Lucky for him, she’s a fucking phenomenal chef and put those ingredients to use in what was probably the best chicken parmesan to have ever graced the Astral Plane. Unlucky for him, Lup used the fact that she cooked dinner to stick Kravitz with dish duty. 

Just as she hears the sink shut off and footsteps leading into the living room, she realizes how heavy her eyelids are. It’s been a good day, she thinks. As she begins to drift off, she finds herself hoping that everyday going forward is like today. No Hunger. No Voidfish. Just sharing an apartment, eating fantastic food, and watching TV until her brain explodes. 

And then she hears her Stone go off. 

Lup scrambles to find it— where’d she leave it, where'd she leave it?— until she finally uncovers it from underneath some discarded blankets. Breathlessly, she lifts it to her mouth and asks, “Taako?”

A tinny voice comes out of the speaker. _ “Hey, how’d you know it was me?” _

She smiles. “Oh, I’m a psychic. I didn’t tell you?”

_ “You know, I met one of those once,” _ he tells her. _ “Old lady. Conjured some lovely scones. Also foretold that some scary shit was supposed to happen, I guess, but I was more into the scones.” _

She glances out the window in her room. Lup can’t quite tell if her mind is playing tricks on her, but she swears the sea outside is getting darker— like the jet black abyss that it is somehow folded in on itself to create an endless hole surrounding the sandy beaches. It looks as if she could step inside of it and fall forever. Meanwhile, the sky, which is always a blinding white, seems to get the slightest bit grayer with each passing hour. Yesterday, Lup went outside to see if she was right and the sky really was changing. She was met with the same feeling she gets right before a storm comes: the humidity hanging in the air, the electricity prickling at her skin, the scent of impending rain, though soured and twisted, like it wasn’t rain that was coming.

Lup knows what’s coming. She knows what’s coming and she’s not ready.

She wishes, absentmindedly, that she could visit the old lady who told Taako about the “scary shit” that’s supposed to happen. Maybe she could give her some advice. Tell her what to do. Let her know what the right choice is because Lup just doesn’t know anymore.

“Yeah,” she says, finally, after she notices how quiet she’s been. “Yeah, um, that sounds great.”

_ “You… uh.. you okay there?” _ Taako asks. _ “You seem kinda, uh… Kinda weird.” _

“Aw, thanks, Taako. You’re so sweet.”   


_ “You know what I mean, dingus.” _

“I’m just, um…” She takes a breath and holds it. “Just thinkin’. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on in your life, huh? 

He hesitates. _ “That’s kinda why I’m calling you, actually.” _ _   
_

“What?”   


_ “Um, listen, my job is… my job is kinda dangerous, right?”  _ he says.  _ “I mean, I’ve known that from the beginning and I’ve always come out the other end fine, natch, so normally this stuff wouldn’t be too worrying. It’s just that, um, this one— this one is really bad.” _ _   
_

Her breath catches in her throat. “What do you— what— what do you mean?”

_ “Uh,”  _ he continues.  _ “The Director told me that this next relic is really, uh, really hard to get to. That she went after it and only lived because she gave up twenty years of her life. What a twist, huh?” _ _   
_

“Taako.”

_ “Although, you know, I think the white hair she’s got is less from age and more from, like, stress. I’m pretty sure she takes a shot each time she sees me. Ha.”  _

“Taako.”

_ “She might just be gettin’ rid of me. Throwin’ ol’ Taako to the buzzards, you know? Maybe she caught me stealing the stapler off her desk and decided she’s had enough.” _

_ “Taako.” _   


_ “Yeah?” _

She can hear the nervousness in his voice, no matter how hard he tries to conceal it, so she asks, “What exactly is happening?”

_ “Oh. Um. Right.” _ He pauses. _ “Me and the other two Stooges are supposed to go after a relic. But, um, The Director told us there’s a very real chance that one of us might not make it back this time.” _

Lup feels her entire body freeze. Her head begins to pound. She hears a rush past her ears. Her fingers start to tremble, which she tries and fails to suppress, and soon she realizes her whole self is shaking.

No one can die. Not here. Not in the final world. Not when they’re so close to having an ending— maybe not a storybook ending, but an ending. One with no more Hunger and no more lost memories and no more suffering at their hands. One with shared apartments and homecooked meals and hours of TV. One where they’re all together again.

She can’t let Taako tell her that he might die. She can’t let him accept that one of the others might die. She can’t sit back and let this be the last time they’re all alive and well, knowing she could have done something to stop it. She can’t have this be the last conversation she ever has with her brother.

She can’t let this happen.

She won’t let this happen.

_ “So, uh, I’ll be totally honest here,” _ he says, interrupting her thoughts,  _ “I don’t usually have these conversations before I go on a mission. With anyone. And, like, I was gonna tell Kravitz after this, not to freak him out or anything, but, um, I just… I felt like I should call you. I don’t know what it is, Lup, or if it’s anything at all, but I just— I don’t know. I felt like you should know.” _

“I’m coming with you,” she says before her brain has even finished processing his words.

_ “What?” _ _   
_

“I’m coming with you.”   


_ “Uh.” _   


“You’re not doing this without me. I’m coming with you.”   


_ “Listen, Lup, we’ll be fine, really—” _ _   
_

“Where are you going?”   


_ “Lup—” _   


“Where are you going, Taako?”   


He doesn’t answer her for a moment. Finally, he sighs and tells her,  _ “The Felicity Wilds.” _   


“The fucking what?”   


_ “There’s, like, some kinda place there we have to go to so we can get the relic. The Wilds probably aren’t so bad. Really. There’s no need for you to come and—” _ _   
_

“Uh, the Wilds, Taako? The  _ Wilds?  _ They’re fuckin’ bad.”

_ “It’s fine! We’re gonna be fine. Me and the chucklefucks haven’t died yet.” _

“I’m coming over there, Taako.”

_ “Uh, no, hey, I can handle myself, really—” _

“I’ve made up my mind. I’m going with you.”   


_ “Lup,” _ he says, uncharacteristically serious.  _ “You don’t have to do this.” _ _   
_

“I’m not leaving you guys, Taako,” she tells him. “Not again.”   


_ “Again? What do you—” _   


And she ends the call.

Lup gathers her cloak from where it’s draped over an armchair and pulls it around herself, stuffing her Stone in one of its pockets. She quickly opens her nightstand drawer and removes her pouch of gold. She tugs on her boots as she hops around the room on one foot, reaching for the doorknob, which she steadies herself on upon successfully pulling on her shoes. She dashes out of the room and to the fridge, where she finds whatever can be used as rations and sticks them in her pockets. Meanwhile, Kravitz watches her, confused.

She steps away from filling her pockets up to the brim and instead hurries, frenzied, to the drawers, pulling them open and shut and open and shut again just in case one of them holds something useful. 

“Uh,” Kravitz says, finally breaking the silence.

“Do we have a pocket knife or something?” she asks. “I need— I need a pocket knife. Like, a multi-tooled one. I know we have it, I’ve seen it, I— where the fuck is it?”   


“Okay, calm down, Lup—”   


“No, Kravitz, I need, I—” She breathes a sigh of relief. “Here it is. Found it. Thank fuck.”

“Lup, what are you doing?”

She pauses, not meeting his eyes as she stashes away the pocket knife. “I’ve gotta go,” she says.   


“Go where?”

“Taako,” she replies. “Taako. Magnus. Merle. They’re in danger. I’ve gotta go.”   


“They’re what?”   


“I don’t have time, Kravitz, I don’t—” She takes a deep breath. “I need a portal. Please, I need a portal. I need a portal to Felicity Wilds, I have to be there, I can’t— I can’t let them—”   


He approaches her, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Lup.”   


“No, Krav, it’s not, he—” She feels herself begin to choke on her words as she says the next sentence, but suppresses it. “He said that there’s a good chance one of them will die.”

She watches as Kravitz’s eyes widen and his jaw parts, just a little, but he quickly masks it. “That’s not gonna happen.”   


“I have to make sure it doesn’t. I have to be there.”   


“No, yeah, of course. We’ll go over there, we can be there in case anything goes wrong—”   


“We?”   


He pauses. Tilts his head. “Uh, yeah, we. I’m coming, of course.”

She feels her heart sink. Her expression shifts from panicked to somber and apologetic as she says, “Oh, Kravitz, I’m sorry, but I have to do this alone.”   


Kravitz drops his hands limply to his sides. “What?”   


“I appreciate it, Kravitz, I really do, but I—”   


“Why? Why can’t I go with you?” His voice is tinged with hurt. 

She shifts her eyes away from his. “I just have to do this one by myself. Okay?”

“No,” he says. “No, you don’t, and no, it’s not okay. I’m coming with you.”

She folds her arms. Scoffs. “You don’t just get to decide you’re coming with me. I’ve made my decision and I’m doing this alone. It’s nothing personal. It’s just something I’ve got to do.”

“You’re not answering me. Why do you have to do this alone?”

Because she wasn’t there to help them before. Because she has to redeem herself. Because she can’t pull Kravitz into this and she can’t watch another person get hurt because of her.

“Because it’s my fight,” she tells him. “Come on, Kravitz, I’ll owe you one. Just please make me a portal to—”

“No!”

“Kravitz,  _ please,” _ she says, exasperated. 

“If they’re in danger, let me help!”

“I can handle it.”

“Lup, you told me one of them will probably die,” he says. “You’re gonna need help.”

She narrows her eyes. Gonna  _ need  _ help?  _ “Excuse _ me?”

“It’s not gonna be easy.”   


“Yeah, no shit,” she tells him. “I just said I can handle it.”

“But—”

“I can  _ handle  _ it. I don’t  _ need  _ your help,” she reiterates, perhaps too cruelly.

This time, it’s Kravitz who gets annoyed, his brow twitching as he scans her face. “You barely have ahold of your reaper powers.”

“Yeah, okay, if we come across some liches, I’ll give you a call. Kravitz, I’m a real fuckin’ good wizard. I can keep myself and the rest of them safe.”

“I’m not saying you can’t. I’m saying it’d be  _ easier  _ if—”   


“I’m saying to stay out of my fuckin’ business.”   


He draws his brow, clenches his jaw, and asks,  _ “Your business?” _ _   
_

“I told you it’s my fight and I’ve got to do it alone. I don’t need you to follow me around all the time.”

“Follow  _ you  _ around? You’ve been following me around since you got here!”

“Uh-huh. Your job description is literally to supervise me.”   


“You live in my— You know what? I’m not doing this,” he says. “What are you not telling me?”   


She tenses. “What?”   


“There’s something you’re not telling me and that’s why you won’t let me come with you,” he says. “What is it?”

Admittedly, she’s still withholding some information from Kravitz— Barry, the Hunger, the Voidfish. She doesn’t know how to explain it all. Lup can’t tell him about her missing lich boyfriend because he’s a reaper, and she can’t tell him about the impending apocalypse for fear of sounding out of her mind, and she can’t tell him about a jellyfish from space that she met while on her century-long journey through the planar system, because _ come on.  _ He doesn’t necessarily need to know all of that, anyhow, and he doesn’t need to dig at her to try and find information she doesn’t want him to know. Those secrets are Lup’s and she’s holding them tight to her chest.

Besides, none of that information is strictly pertinent to the reason why she needs to do this by herself. Therefore, she has no obligation to divulge it.   
This has nothing to do with secrecy and everything to do with a refusal to let others get hurt. For ten years, she was gone. She couldn’t help anybody. She couldn’t do anything except watch and wait and grasp tight to whatever dwindling hope she had. She wasn’t there, and now that she is, she’s going to do what she can to help and she’s going to do it by herself to make up for the fact that she abandoned them.

And Kravitz— She’s seen too many people suffer because of her actions. Not only can whatever’s in Felicity Wilds hurt people physically, but, given what happened to Lucretia, it evidently can take things away. She’s not going to watch that happen to him because she dragged him into this mess. Her mess, if you really think about it. The relics were her idea. There wouldn’t be anything protecting the relics if there weren’t any damn relics in the first place.

“There’s nothing I’m not telling you,” she lies. “You just have to trust me.”

“Trust  _ you?” _ he asks, nearly fuming. “You don’t trust _ me!” _   


And, God, does that make Lup mad.

“I do trust you,” she argues, jabbing a finger at his chest. “I trusted you enough to tell you about Taako, and I trusted you enough to tell you about the memory curse, I trusted you enough to tell you things I haven’t told  _ anyone else _ in over a  _ decade, _ so if you’re going to accuse me of ‘not trusting you’ because I didn’t tell you my  _ whole life story—” _   


“I just asked you to tell me why I can’t come with you! It’s a simple question! Why don’t you trust me enough to tell me _ that?” _

Lup balls her hands into fists, and then, her jaw clenched, her glare narrowed, says, “You wanna talk about trust? How about we talk about how  _ you  _ don’t trust _ me?” _ _   
_

Shock crosses his face, then confusion, until finally he settles on anger.  _ “What?” _

“I’m a lich,” she hisses, “I’m a necromancer. I’m a death criminal. I was your bounty. From the very beginning, you didn’t trust me. You still don’t.”

“I don’t?” He laughs, although it holds no humor. “Lup, I take you on hunts. You do missions with me. I invited you to _ move in. _ How do I not trust you?”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You took every opportunity to throw some snide comment about lichdom or necromancy in my direction. The only thing that’s changed is you haven’t been as much of a smug asshole to my face.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m sorry, it took me some time to get used to the fucking lich I captured becoming my coworker.”

“Aw, there it is. I know you still see me as ‘the fucking lich you captured.’ The death criminal. The necromancer. The evil shitbag who threw her soul away for power and immortality. You could—”

“I was fucking killed by a necromancer, Lup!” he shouts, cutting her off. The room falls to silence. And, then, he says, quieter, “I was killed by a necromancer who I thought was my friend. So, you know, I’m sorry I wasn’t a beam of sunlight on your first day.”

She softens, if only a little. “Kravitz, I was never going to do that.”   


“Yeah, well,” he replies, still bitter, “Excuse me for being cautious.”

“I’m just— Listen, I’m not some evil, scary necromancer set on destroying the world. I can understand cautiousness, but you’ve gotta get used to that.”

He shoots her a quick glare before averting his gaze somewhere else. “You take some getting used to.”

She feels sympathetic right up until that last sentence, which shatters every fragment of pity she might have left for him.

_ “I  _ take some getting used to?” she scoffs. “This coming from the total fucking superior, snarky  _ dick  _ whose only friend is his boss?”

His expression shifts, if only for a moment, to one of shame as he begins to fold in on himself. He recovers abruptly, however, and retorts with a, “At least  _ I _ would accept help for my fucking friends.”

“You don’t know shit!”

“Uh-huh. It seems pretty clear from where I’m standing.”

“Maybe you would have more friends to help if you weren’t so fuckin’ condescending all of the time,” she nearly shouts, fuming. “You are  _ such  _ an asshole. Don’t stand there and demand I let you come with me and then insist I’m horrible if I don’t.

“What is this  _ about?” _

“Fuck off.”

He curls his lip. “There you go again. Something you’re not telling me.”   


“I said to fuck off.”

“You know, instead of taking digs at me, you could be letting me help you. But you’re too good for that, huh? You just can’t tell me because of some arbitrary secret thing, right?” He rolls his eyes. “And  _ I’m _ the superior one.”   


“I don’t have to tell you everything.”   


“You don’t have to keep it from me, either.”   


Lup drags her palm down her face. “I’m so glad training period is almost up,” she mumbles. “I can’t spend another second dealing with your shit. First you can’t stand me and now you can’t stop until you know everything about me.”

“I don’t want to know everything about you. I’m not  _ trying  _ to get you to tell me everything about you,” he says. “I just want to know why I can’t come with you.”

Because it’s her fault she wasn’t there for them. Because she’s tired of watching other people get hurt because of her and that’s exactly what’s going to happen if she brings Kravitz. Because she has to do something, anything, to make up for the years she was gone, to help them when they need her, and she has to do that alone.

But she can’t say that. Not aloud. Her voice dies in her throat when she tries to choke it out. There’s a part of her that’s ashamed, she thinks— ashamed of how destruction always ghosts at the edges of her fingertips, how she always seems to hurt people even when she’s trying to help. 

“I—” she begins, trying to find the words, desperately grasping for an explanation before settling on,  _ “Please.” _

He remains firm in his frustration, his lip curled into a disdainful scowl. Finally, he breaks the heavy silence with, “I don’t even know why we’re talking about this. You can’t make portals.”   
A slow dread spreads throughout her, settling in the pit of her stomach. “Are you saying— you’re saying you won’t create the portal?”

“Not unless you accept help,” he tells her. “I’m not going to stay here and wait for you to return with an awful, bloody story wherein one of your friends died. I’m going to help.”

She clenches her fist, her arms trembling. “You are so  _ fucking selfish,” _ she spits. 

“I’m the selfish one?” he asks, incredulous. “You won’t let me help you! And this isn’t just help for you, Lup, it’s help for Merle, and Magnus, and Taako. You’re denying help not just for you, but for them.”

“You’re forcing me to—”

“To what? To accept a friendly offer? God, I’m so sorry, I’m such a horrible person,” he deadpans. “I’m not going to stand by knowing I could have done something. You’re not the only one who cares about them.”

“You are such a fucking  _ control freak,”  _ she hisses at him.

“I don’t care what I am,” he says. “I’m helping. That’s that.”   


“No, it’s not—”   


“Yeah? You can’t even make a portal to the lobby, Lup, much less to the place your friends are.” He crosses his arms. “You just aren’t there yet.”   


Lup clenches her jaw.

And then she proves him wrong.

She wordlessly summons her scythe into her hands, channeling her energy into her palms until they begin to glow a bright blue. Lup, instead of focusing on the place, instead of even focusing on who she needs to be with, instead chooses to focus on why she needs to be there.

Lup concentrates hard on everything she has to lose if she doesn’t succeed. If she fails to open a rift, her two choices become a) bring Kravitz along and watch him get hurt, or b) stay here, desperately try and find a different way out, and waste time while her best friends suffer. She’s not letting either happen. No one is getting hurt while she’s there. No one.

This is the last cycle. This is her last chance. If they die here— if they die now— there’s no coming back. There’s no manifesting on the Starblaster with healed scars and new, freshly pressed clothes, and overwhelming feelings of vertigo. There’s no moving on to the next plane only to watch it die again. There is no starting over. No reset. This is it. 

If something happens to them, she’ll never forgive herself.

And then her focus shifts instead to what she has to gain: her family. 

If she does manage to create this portal (and she will, she has to, she  _ needs  _ to), she can finally, finally help them instead of hurt them. All she’s done for the last ten years is cause pain. Now she has a chance to make up for it. 

Nothing’s going to happen to them because she’s going to be there.

She’ll keep them safe.

She has to.

Lup lifts her scythe high above her head, swings it downward, and, when she opens her eyes, there’s a swirling rift of color waiting for her. 

She looks at Kravitz, her brow drawn, her grip tight on her scythe, radiating defiance. She gives him a look that says, _ Try to tell me no. _ And Kravitz, eyes wide, mouth agape, stays silent.

Lup enters her portal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh!  
> next chapter: the suffering game kicks off! kravitz is lonely. lup is overwhelmed. everyone has regrets  
> tumblr: nillial


	13. Welcome to Wonderland!/The Sea of Souls

Lup tumbles out onto soft, overgrown grass, twigs snapping underneath her as she rolls across the ground, until finally her momentum is broken by the trunk of a tree. An ache consumes her head, forcing her to press a couple fingers to her temples while she waits for the ringing in her ears to subside. When she regains the strength to open her eyes and take a look around, she realizes she’s surrounded by dense greenery, an abundance of animals, and a cluster of trees which leave little sunlight to filter through. Lup has landed herself in the thick of the woods— or, not just the thick of the woods, but the thick of the Felicity Wilds. 

Fuck.

She supposes it makes sense. Of course she’s not going to land exactly where she needs to on her first try. Still, this isn’t where she expected to be, nor is it where she would like to be. 

Lup, leaning on the tree in front of her, pulls herself to her feet. She dusts the dirt and blades of grass off her cloak before combing the burs out of her hair. And then she notices it— there, in the sky, a bright beam of light, just barely visible against the passing clouds.

That’s where she has to go. That’s where Taako, Magnus, and Merle are headed. She knows it.

Lup starts walking.

-

Kravitz, his hands shoved in his pockets, stomps into the elevator, through the lobby, and finally out of the glass double doors leading outside. 

Fucking Lup. All he wanted to do was help and she  _ had  _ to make it into a fight. And, of course, her reasons for going alone had to be a secret, too. Just like everything with her always is. A secret.

And then she has the nerve to call  _ him  _ stuck-up and snotty and conceited. After he moved her into his apartment, after he trained her, after he began calling her his friend, she decides he’s an egoist. All he wanted to do was help, but she didn’t even want him doing that. 

And trust. How can she go on about him not trusting her right off the bat when she  _ moved into his apartmen _ t and still refuses to answer the simplest of questions? When she gets upset at the very notion of Kravitz wanting to help her? 

Why does Kravitz put up with her shit at all? Why did he in the first place?   


(Deep down, he knows— because he likes Lup and Lup likes him and they’re friends, really, no matter how frustrated he is right now. However, Kravitz is going to choose to ignore that part.)

He trudges through the sand until he ends up at the shore of the Sea. And, once he does, he sinks to his knees and says, to no one in particular, _ ”God.” _

He doesn’t know what to do. Lup is gone. She made a portal without his assistance and disappeared. And Kravitz— 

Kravitz is alone.

Lup was right about one thing: Kravitz is lonely. He doesn’t have a lot of friends, his coworkers aren’t too fond of him, and one of the only people he hangs out with is his boss. It’s not like that  _ bothers  _ him. He enjoys his solitude. He enjoys his (formerly) one-person apartment. He enjoys spending time by himself with no one to talk to and cycling through day after day after day with no significant change. Kravitz doesn’t  _ need  _ Lup to befriend him. What he needs is to return to his old afterlife.

Yeah.

And why is she so secretive, anyway? What is she trying to hide? And, whatever it is, what does it have to do with making sure her friends don’t die? It’s not like extra help would hurt.

He knows Lup can take care of herself. He knows she’s an excellent magic-user, even if he won’t admit it to her aloud. He knows she’s incredible at taking down bounties with him, like a partner he didn’t know he wanted, but still. He can see that she cares about them. What is he supposed to do? Sit back and wait for everything to unfold? Take a nap on the couch before she comes back and tells him whether or not everyone survived? Fuck that. 

Besides, it’s not like Lup isn’t the only one who gets to care. Taako is there. Taako is in danger. And Kravitz, who is able to help him out, is just supposed to ignore that?

He stops abruptly next to the Sea’s shoreline. Sighs. Maybe he  _ was  _ a bit pushy earlier. It’s just that he wants to fight alongside Lup, not wait around and do nothing. Plus, some answers other than a vague “I can’t tell you” would be nice. 

He should probably apologize.

Kravitz lifts his foot just slightly and kicks some sand into the Sea. However, when he does, the strangest thing happens— it doesn’t come back.

Usually, whenever anything enters the Sea that doesn’t belong, it’ll spit it right up. 

And yet, nothing happens.

Curious, Kravitz kicks some more. And more. And more. It stays in the Sea. 

Huh.

He chooses to ignore it, at least for now. Now, he has to call Lup and tell her he’s sorry. 

He fumbles with the Stone in his pocket until he finally pulls it out. He’s just about to start dialing Lup’s frequency when he realizes— the Stone is dim.

He hits it against the thick of his palm. He shakes it up and down. He nearly breaks it in two trying to get it to work, but it remains silent. He can’t call Lup.

Must be the reception. He’s never tried to call anyone on the shore of the Sea, but he imagines it’s difficult.

Kravitz stuffs his stone in his pocket, and, as he does, notices it.

There’s waves in the Sea.

Less waves than small ripples, but still, there have never been waves in the Sea before. The Sea of Souls is supposed to be unmoving. Peaceful. He’s never seen the water move an inch in all the time he’s worked here.

And then the Sea begins to  _ crawl.  _

Slimy, inky black goo emerges from the water and inches towards his feet in a slow creep, almost as if it wants to grab him. It sticks to the sand, digs into it, and pulls itself forward as if it’s trying to escape. It moves like a living being, and yet it can’t be, it shouldn’t be, especially since it doesn’t look like any living being he’s ever seen— but the water is full of souls. Of dormant lives. Is this— whatever it is— an amalgam of awakened spirits? Is it a monster that feeds on them? Is it something else entirely?   


The slime stretches out of the water while Kravitz trembles with fear. Panicking, he summons his scythe and slices at it. It rips in two relatively easily, which provides him with some relief. That is, until the severed goo, which lies there, flopping like a dead fish, connects itself back to its larger part by stitching the sinewy strings where the cut had been made back together. Once again, it advances.

He scrambles away from the shoreline, nearly tripping over himself in his attempt to flee. Something is wrong. Something is wrong, and he doesn’t know what. Nothing has ever been  _ wrong  _ in the Astral Plane. 

He begins to run in the direction of the office building as fast as his feet are willing to carry him.

Behind him, the water rises.

-

Lup finally makes her way out of the woods after a fair amount of stumbling over stray roots and bumping into low-hanging branches. When she does, the light guiding her way is inexplicably gone, and in its place is a black and white circus tent illuminated by several large floodlights. Its exterior spins in a mesmerizing black and white circle, calling her forth.

She emerges from the last of the overgrown greenery and steps onto a dirt path stretching for miles. Leading up to the tent are a number of billboards, each decorated in flashing lights, each eye-searingly gaudy, each advertising for specific people. As Lup walks down the path, she gazes at the billboards above her, reading each of their contents—  _ Lord Artemis Sterling’s Grand Prize: Miracle Milk! Antonia’s Reward: The Heart of the Forest! Rowan’s Winnings: Carmine’s Collar!— _ and then she sees  _ their  _ names up in lights.  _ Taako, Magnus, and Merle: The Animus Bell! _

Fuck.

This is bad. 

She quickens her pace, her hands balled into fists, her lips pursed tight, her mind racing. Maybe she should have brought backup. Maybe she was a little harsh on Kravitz. Maybe she should have just let him tag along. Still, she chose what she chose, and this is something Lup would rather do by herself. Or, at least, prove she can do by herself. 

She glances back up at the billboards, only for a second, and then halts in her tracks.

There, shining in the bright LED lights lining its frame, is a billboard colored in a tacky pink and green palette. Written across the top in a godawful font is  _ For Lup: The Second Voidfish’s Ichor! _

Her nails dig into her skin as a chill comes over her. She walks faster.

Eventually, she notices figures in the distance, coming right up on the entrance to the circus tent. She sprints towards them, shouting, “Wait! Wait!” All six of them stop and look at her. She hopes that Taako, Magnus, and Merle are among that group or else this’ll be very awkward.

Lup finally nears them— three people she knows well and three strangers. Once she stops, however, she has to lean over and catch her breath, holding onto her knees for support.

“You don’t even need to breathe,” Taako tells her. “You’re dead.”

Lup holds up an index finger both to indicate for him to wait and for him to shut the fuck up. At last, she recovers enough to wheeze out, “Force of habit.”

Behind them, a portion of the circus tent’s wall has seemingly receded, revealing a doorway labeled  _ LORD ARTEMIS STERLING, ANTONIA, AND ROWAN _ illuminated in bright lights. She glances towards the three strangers. Must be them.

“Lola!” Merle says, beaming. “Good to see you again.”

“Lup,” she corrects, still recuperating.

“Right back at you. Hey, you, uh…” He tries to lower his voice to a whisper, but he can still be heard by everyone around him. “You got any Imodium on you? Bowel troubles. Had some bad jerky. You know how it is.”

Both Magnus and Taako groan. Magnus whacks him on the shoulder. Merle lets out an annoyed _ “ow.” _

God, how she’s missed this.

“Who’s this?” asks a nasally voice from behind her. She turns around to see someone that she would, in any other setting, pickpocket.

Magnus places a heavy hand on her shoulder. “This is Lup. She was on a mission to murder us once.”

“But I didn’t,” she adds.

“But she didn’t,” he amends.

Mr. Rich Kid looks her up and down before seemingly deciding she isn’t worth his time. “Right.” He dusts off his very expensive-looking, very formal jacket. “We’re going in. Best of luck to you four.”

Two others follow him, each dressed in knightly armor. They wave goodbye as they disappear behind the tent’s curtain.

“Well,” says Merle. “They’re dead.”

“We’re gonna have to go in there, too, Merle,” Magnus tells him.

Taako rolls his eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

“Don’t make me stuff you in the Pocket Workshop.”

“Oh, no, not the Pocket Workshop,” Taako deadpans. “It smells like cedar in there.”

“And residual dude smell. I did shove those two unconscious guys in there, like, half an hour ago, and one of them had on some heavy cologne.”

Taako makes a face. “You tossed them out, though. It should be gone.”   


“Mm, I dunno. I bet they stank up the whole joint. Probably smells like a high school locker room.”

Taako shudders.

Lup decides to save her questions for later.

Magnus turns to her and asks, “Uh, Lup, don’t take this the wrong way, but, uh— what— what are you doing here?”   


“Taako didn’t tell you?” she replies.

Magnus and Merle both give Taako a pointed look. He shrugs.

“I came to help you guys out,” Lup continues. “I heard this mission was gonna be kinda rough. And, you know, being both the best  _ and  _ hottest wizard in the universe, I thought I might be good to have in a fight.”

“You are  _ not  _ the best and the hottest wizard in the universe, that is _ conjecture,” _ Taako interjects.

“Sorry, Taako. Being incredible is just my burden to bear.” 

Magnus clasps his hands together in front of him. His voice lowered into a whisper, he asks, “And you— you can’t like, die, can you? Like, if we use you as a human shield, you wouldn’t die, right?”

“I might poof back to the Astral Plane, but I can’t actually die.”

He breaks out into a beaming grin, straightens his posture, and places his hands on his hips. “Great. My morals are still intact. Should we go?”

Merle speaks up. “Yeah, hold on. I’m just gonna squat in those bushes over there, so if you guys could turn around, that’d be—”

_ “Merle,” _ Taako and Magnus simultaneously shout.

Merle offers an innocent “What?”

They approach the entrance to the tent. As they walk, Taako leans over and asks, “Hey, uh, where’s your goth buddy? Did he have something else to do, or…?”   


Right. Of course he’d want Kravitz here, just like how part of the reason Kravitz wanted to come along was likely because he was worried about him. 

“I didn’t think to tell him,” she lies. “I just kinda left.”

A twinge of disappointment crosses his face. “I didn’t call him. I just assumed you’d bring him along.”   


She shrugs. “Sorry.”

“So he doesn’t know I’m here. About to go into the weird circus tent torture chamber.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Great.”

They walk the rest of the way in silence, pausing once they near the entryway. This time, the door has shifted into an archway that seemingly leads into the inky blackness of a void. Above the door are four names accented by bright, blinking lights:  _ MAGNUS, MERLE, TAAKO, AND LUP. _

Magnus walks on through with no hesitation, which earns a “What the hell?” from Merle and solidifies Lup’s decision to come along with them because  _ God _ are they fucking  _ dumb. _

“Yeah, I’m not sure about this one, fellas,” Taako says. “I mean, I’m trying to be true to Taako, and this seems wack as all hell.”

A hand— Magnus’s hand, judging from the scars and the chipped nail polish— reaches out and grabs Taako by the arm, pulling him in. From inside, Lup hears a distant, muffled, “Son of a bitch!”

She looks at Merle. Merle looks at her.

Merle rolls his eyes and crosses through. Lup follows suit.

She steps through the darkness only to find more darkness, although not as intense as the darkness in the doorway. Even Lup’s Darkvision is largely useless in trying to discern anything in the room. All she can see are the vague outlines of shapes, all spread out in an area which seems to sprawl out forever. She turns around in an attempt to find the entrance, but it’s gone— blended into the walls like it was never there in the first place. 

Suddenly, the room is illuminated by strong flood lights that shine from the floor, all leading up to a stage, which, in turn, is lit by bright spotlights. Under the spotlights are two figures— a male and female elf, both posing, both sporting gaudy outfits in eye-searing colors. And then the female elf snaps, clicking extra lights on which reveal a runway. 

Music begins to play from a source she can’t quite identify, but which is excessively loud all the same, traveling from the floor and up Lup’s spine until her teeth begin to chatter. The lights, which before were just a bright white, now flash with neon colors. Meanwhile, the two elves strut down the runway, striking poses in time with the music, performing a show with practiced ease.

Lup hates to admit it since they almost definitely have the relic and are about to do unspeakable evil with it, but she thinks she likes these people.

At last, they reach the runway’s end, stepping onto a platform that lowers them to the floor and brings them face-to-face with the four of them. Beside her, Taako applauds. 

“Welcome to Wonderland,” says the male elf, a white-toothed smile plastered on his face. “I’m Edward.”

“And I’m Lydia,” says the female elf, her grin identical to Edward’s. “Hope you didn’t have too much trouble navigating the Wilds.”

Lup did have trouble. The Wilds fucking suck. If they were going to build a weird circus tent, they could have at least done it in a clearing somewhere. 

Either way, Lup senses lich on them. She might not be too in-tune with her reaper skills, but she doesn't need to be. Having been a lich, Lup can recognize lich energy if presented with it, and these two elves, as well as their entire building, exude lich energy.

After Taako praises them for their work, Edward and Lydia begin to get into the rules of Wonderland: the four of them will undergo challenges in order to win their prize, they can’t cheat, they might die, blah, blah, blah. None of it is going to matter. After all, these are liches, and Lup is a reaper.

“Love this,” says Lup, interrupting their speech. The two of them glare at her. “Love all of this. Just one thing.”

“And what’s that?” says Edward, raising his brow like he doesn’t believe her. She’s going to wipe that dumb look off his face and reclaim the Animus Bell in two seconds tops. 

“I’m the Grim Reaper,” she tells them, smiling wide, her brow drawn, “and you’re going to Hell.”   


Lup reaches out in front of her, her palm outstretched, and wills her scythe to her hand.

But nothing happens.

She does the same gesture again, channeling a greater amount of power.

But nothing happens.

She chuckles nervously and tries again. And again, and again, and again.

Still, nothing happens. Lup is empty-handed.

Edward and Lydia both stare at her expectantly. And then Lydia asks, “What was that supposed to do, exactly?”

“Uh.” Lup tucks her hands behind her back. Her cool entrance is ruined and now she looks like a dork. She feels like Kravitz. “Nothing.”

After a long bout of silence, Edward clasps his hands together. “Alright. Any questions?”

“Yeah,” says Taako. “Are you guys taking job applications?” 

-

Kravitz slams his hands down on the front desk. Jim, startled, looks up at him, and then, as soon as he realizes who he’s speaking to, frowns. “Can I help you?” 

“The— The Sea—” Kravitz stutters, his words twisting together in his mouth. “There’s something in— It shouldn’t— shouldn’t be— it’s  _ wrong, _ the Sea is  _ wrong—” _

Jim raises his eyebrows. “You’re going to have to speak more clearly.”

He desperately jabs a finger in the direction of the glass double doors leading outside. “The _ Sea! _ Something is wrong with the Sea!”

Instead of sharing in his concern, Jim rolls his eyes and folds his arms on the desk in front of him. “And what is it that’s wrong with the Sea, sir?”   


_ “Sir? _ You know who I am, Jim! We’ve worked together for fifty fucking years! You steal my lunches out of the fridge! It’s a thing!”   


“Sir, what do you think you saw?”

_ “Think _ I saw?” Kravitz scoffs. “You go out there and tell me what you  _ think  _ you see.”

Jim cranes his head past Kravitz to look through the glass door. “I think I see the Sea of Souls.”

“But it’s what’s  _ in _ the Sea!” he hisses, gesturing wildly in the direction of the doorway.

“Okay,” says Jim, his tone delicate and condescending, as if he were speaking to a preschooler. “And what’s in the Sea?”

“It’s— it’s this— this  _ substance, _ this—” He groans, dropping his hands to the side. “It’s hard to explain, but there’s something out there, okay? We have to warn people, we have to figure out what it is, we—”

Jim interrupts him with a sigh. In a low voice, he tells him, “Listen, Kravitz, I think the stress of the job is getting to you. You’ve got that, uh, that Employee of the Year title to worry about. Don’t wanna lose your streak like you did thirteen years ago.” A smug grin spreads across his face before he suppresses it. Meanwhile, Kravitz grows angrier. “And, on top of that, you’ve got that, um… that trainee.” He tilts his head in a display of false concern. “Maybe you should take a break.”

“Oh, _ fuck _ you,” Kravitz nearly shouts.

Jim smiles. “You too, Kravitz.”

He feels his hands ball into fists. His jaw clenched, his shoulders tensed, seething, he asks, “Why? Why is it always you at the front desk? Why not Janet? Or Denise? Or Mike? Why? Why is it always _ you?” _

While Jim shrugs, Kravitz stomps off towards the elevators.

He needs to see the Raven Queen.

-

The four of them are led into the next room, which is dark and empty except for a large roulette wheel in its center and a single door on the far wall. Edward and Lydia explain the rules: they each need to spin the Wheel of Sacrifice, give up something according to what the wheel lands on, and complete enough sacrifices to open the door in front of them. Afterwards, they can move on.

Magnus decides that he wants to go first, which isn’t too surprising. He’s never been cautious. In some cases, like this one, she admires his bravery. In others, she realizes how thin the line between stupidity and bravery is.

(That isn’t to say that Lup  _ condemns  _ that stupidity— in fact, she and Magnus have had their fair share of dumb adventures together. Their contest at the very end of Cycle 53, for example, in which they tried to see who could eat the most poisonous mushrooms before dying.)

(It was Magnus. Lup is still bitter about losing.)

The roulette wheel spins until it lands on a picture of a hand, which, apparently, means he has to sacrifice part of his hand. The elves request a finger and Magnus’s expression sours, which they both notice. Edward insists he’s being greedy if he refuses to give up a finger, which Lup doesn’t  _ quite  _ agree with, but whatever. In the end, he loses a pinky much like a wizard would lose concentration on a spell— it just disappears into thin air and is gone. 

There’s a dinging sound. Lup looks up to notice a panel above the doorway with four lights, one of which has just turned green.

Next is Merle, who spins the wheel and lands on an eye. Edward and Lydia share a white-toothed grin before telling him that he needs to give up his Darkvision. He shrugs off the consequences and agrees, and, as soon as he does, Lup watches as the color drains from his eyes until they’re a dull, foggy gray. 

Lup’s stomach churns.

Everybody turns to look at Taako and Lup, who, in turn, look at one another. 

“After you,” says Taako, gesturing towards the Wheel. 

Lup folds her arms and levels him with a glare, but, all the same, deadpans, “I’m honored.” and approaches the Wheel.

She watches the multicolored lights blink on and off, stares at the nauseating alternating neons of the Wheel’s sections, and steels herself for what’s to come. All she needs to do is spin. That’s it. She’ll spin, she’ll lose something, and it won’t be too bad. She can’t even  _ die. _ There’s nothing they can take from her that she couldn’t live without. She shouldn’t be afraid. Lup doesn’t  _ do  _ fear. Not over shit like this.

Trembling, she reaches out a hand to grab onto one of the Wheel’s rungs. 

She can do this. She can do this. She can do this.

She freezes before her hands even touch the wheel and instead asks, “Can I make a call? Just real quick?”

Edward and Lydia seem mildly surprised, if not annoyed. Lydia tells her, “You can’t… make calls here. Stones of Farspeech don’t work.”

“It’s— It’s different,” she says. “Not a call, but, like… something else. Can I do it?”   


The two of them share a look and Edward says, “I guess.”

She mumbles out a, “Cool, thanks,” before escaping to one of the particularly shadowy corners of the room. Once there, she kneels down, digs around in her pockets for the five raven feathers Kravitz once provided her with  _ “in case of emergencies”, _ and lays them out in the same pattern he once demonstrated. He had only shown her how to scry using raven feathers and mentioned in passing about it doubling as a way to commune with the Raven Queen, but Lup needs Kravitz right now, so she’s communing with him instead. He never exactly taught her how to use a spell like the one she’s about to use, but if she can make portals work, she presumes she can make a scrying spell work, too.

She places either hand next to the feather pattern, channeling her magic into it. God, this is going to be humiliating.

She doesn’t need him. Not really. She can defeat those liches without her Reaper powers, if need be. It’d just be much faster if someone with a scythe were here to do the reaping.    
Except she does need him. She needs him, as much as she hates to admit it, and she was so mean to him when he only had good intentions. Lup hated the idea of him getting hurt because of her and she was so, so afraid of one of her best friends dying that she took her frustrations out on him. Lup decided to come here because she couldn’t stand the idea of sitting idly by and waiting to find out who or if anyone had died as a result of this mission, but she’s forcing Kravitz to do the same. 

She concentrates on calling him, her brow furrowed, her magic strong. For just a moment, the area in the center of the feathers swirls with color. Just as quickly, however, it flickers and dies. Useless. 

Fuck.

No scythe and no way to call the Astral Plane. What’s wrong with her today?

“Are you…” Edward asks, craning his neck to see what she’s doing. “Are you done? Because someone has to take this sacrifice.”

Lup gathers the feathers into her fist and rises from the ground. “Yeah,” she grumbles before rejoining the group.

Edward clasps his hands together. “Okay,” he says, plastering the fake, unnatural grin back on his face, “time to spin the Wheel of Sacrifice!”

“Mm, goody,” Lup deadpans. 

This time, it’s Lydia who offers her a cold, unfeeling smile. “You don’t sound like you’re enjoying this, Lup. Is something wrong?”

She laughs, but it holds no humor. “Yeah, you guys fuckin’ suck.”

Right after the words leave her mouth, however, a wisp of dark smog, just barely visible, ghosts at her breath. 

Huh.

She’s gonna have to table that one for later.

Lup grabs one of the wheel’s rungs and gives it a half-hearted spin. Edward and Lydia look less than delighted as the wheel slowly trudges along before landing anticlimactically on a question mark.

Lydia claps her hands together! “Oh, this will be fun! A question mark means you get to choose what you want to give up, so long as it’s equal to the rest of your group’s sacrifices. If the wheel decides it’s not enough, then you’ll need to give up even more in order to move on. Sound good?”

Before the pedestal she’s presumably meant to place her sacrifices on can even lift all of the way, she drops the raven feather’s she’s holding onto it. “There.”

Both Lydia and Edward’s smiles falter. 

Edward clears his throat. “What, um… what do you mean?”   


“There,” says Lup. “That’s my sacrifice.”

The both of them look at one another, then back at her. Lydia chuckles with more confusion than humor and asks, “Some feathers?”   
She shrugs. “Take it or leave it.”

They stare at one another for a moment before Lydia snaps her fingers, whisking away the pedestal into nonexistence. The light above the door blinks green.

“Guess the Wheel likes feathers!” Edward exclaims. “Moving on. Taako?”   


Taako, during Lup’s sacrifice, has shrunk into the shadows in what seems like an attempt to make Lydia and Edward forget about him. Once they ask for him, he sighs and slinks back into the spotlight. He grabs ahold of a rung, rears back, and lets it spin.

It turns for a while before finally, finally landing on an image of a skull.

Lup’s stomach tightens.   


“Oh, skull!” He beams, clearly delighted for Taako’s misfortune. “This means you’ll have some bad luck. Not right now— later. Still, even if it’s delayed, it’s exciting, hmm?”   


“Right,” he says. He crosses his arms. Mulls it over. “Hm.”   


She leans over and whispers to him, “Hey, I can take it if you don’t want to. What are they gonna do? I’m already dead as fuck.”

He sighs. “Uh-huh.”   


“Bad luck for you could mean death. Bad luck for me would mean, like, my PopTart getting burned, or something. What do you say?”   


“Uh-huh.”   


“Are you listening?”   


“Eh, I’ll take it,” Taako tells them. As soon as he does, the final light above the door turns green and the exit slides open.

“Well,” says Lydia.

“Shall we?” says Edward.

And they vanish into thin air.

Lup turns to Taako. “Dude.”

Taako, who is already making his way towards the door, turns around to look at her. “What?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”   


“Wait, huh?”

“I told you I could take the bad luck.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, I’ll be fine, Lulu. I’ll probably just lose my wallet later.”   


“Don’t call me Lulu.”   


“Oh? Oh, what did you say?” He leans closer, cupping a hand around his ear. “It sounds like you said Lulu is a great nickname, Lulu.”   


“Shut up!”   


“Lulu. Lulu, Lulu, Lulu.”   


“Stop it, asswipe!”

“Stop what? Stop this?” He leans forward. “Lulu, Lulu, Lulu, Lulu, Lulu, Lulu, Lulu—”   


“Oh my God, shut  _ up!”  _

From behind her, Merle clears his throat. “So, are we going, or…?”   


She glares at Taako for a moment before offering up a quick nod.

Lup stomps through the doorway

-

Kravitz runs down the hallways, narrowly avoiding passersby, the rhythmic click of his shoes on the tiled floors following him. 

The Raven Queen. The Raven Queen. The Raven Queen. He has to make it to the Raven Queen.

The hallway grows dimmer and dimmer until, finally, finally, he comes to a sliding halt in a darkness he knows well. Panting, he stumbles further into the void that is the Raven Queen’s chambers. 

“Raven Queen!” he shouts. His words echo and disappear. “My Queen, I need to talk to you!”

She doesn’t respond.

Kravitz feels his chest tighten.

She has to be here. She needs to be here. “Raven Queen!” he yells, desperation crawling into his tone. 

And she doesn’t respond.

He doesn’t need to breathe, not really, yet his breath quickens. “Raven Queen!” he calls out once again, although he’s getting a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he’s reaching into an empty void, trying to grasp at something that’s not there. 

And she doesn’t respond.

His shoulders tense. His fingers tremble. His face starts to prickle, flushing hot, then cold, then hot again. His skin is crawling and he wants it to stop, needs it to stop, doesn’t know how to make it stop. Kravitz needs her here. And he knows he should be more concerned for the whole of the Astral Plane, a kingdom whose queen has vanished, a facet of a planar system that’s about to be tossed out of balance, but right here, right now, Kravitz is scared and alone and he  _ needs  _ her to be okay, needs to  _ know  _ she’s okay, needs to see her right now and drop the dumb formalities and cling to her cloak like a frightened little kid.

“Are you here?” he asks, quieter this time, the last shred of his hope dwindling.

And she doesn’t respond.

He chokes down an embarrassing sob rising in his throat as tears form in the corners of his eyes. He shouldn’t be crying, but he’s so, so afraid, and everything is wrong, and he doesn’t know what to do. She would know. She would give him advice, or at least try to, and she’d believe in him, and she’d calm him down, and she wouldn’t ridicule him for being upset, and she’d be a friend when he had none, and she’d be a mother when his was gone, and she’d love him unconditionally when no one wanted him around. 

When Kravitz was still living, he thought of the gods as distant and unfeeling. He never felt any warmth towards them, nor did he feel any of them had their eyes fixed on him, and he was okay with that. But when he was killed, the Raven Queen gave him an immortal form, and she cared about him even when he was a stranger, and, although she told him negativity towards death was unwarranted, that it was a natural end, she let him grieve what he lost because she, too, had felt what it was to die. She told him secrets, and she told him truths while leaving out the grotesque parts, and she told him of her slow and painful ascent into godhood, into something not quite human, and she never once flinched. He remembers admiring her for that. Experiencing so much pain and suffering and retelling it without needing to quit. He hoped he could be like that one day.

The Raven Queen is and always has been more than a goddess. She’s a friend.

Hot tears roll down his cheeks as he stands, hands slack at his sides, in an empty darkness. His voice breaking, his tone soft and pleading, he grasps one more time at the suffocating nothingness all around him: “Please?”

And she doesn’t respond.

-

As they make the short walk to the next activity, Lup elbows Merle as softly as possible. “Psst.”

He makes an over exaggerated show of cradling the arm she hit, feigning immense agony. “Oww!” he cries, causing Magnus and Taako to turn their heads. “Oh, the pain! The pain!”

“I barely touched you!” Lup hisses.

“Ow, ow, the _ torture!” _ _   
_

“Shh, shh, shut up,” she whispers.

“Oh, I’ll never recover!” he wails. Magnus and Taako share a look.

“I’ll give you ten gold if you shut up!”   


“Oh, oh sweet heavens, if only I had fifteen gold! That would surely fix my horrible injury!”

She sighs. “I— fine. Fifteen gold for you to shut up.”

He suddenly returns to his normal self and drops his arms to his side. “I’m listening.”

Lup levels him with a very pointed look, but, admittedly, does have to suppress a grin. “You’re awful. You know that?”   


“Whatever you say,” he says, a smile on his face. “I just became fifteen gold richer.”   


“Right,” she replies. “Hey, listen, don’t tell the others because I don’t want them to worry, but I think my magical connection’s fucked because I’m in here. Nothing’s working right. They could be messing with yours, too.”   


A look of panic crosses Merle’s face. “What?”   


“Have you tried using it yet?” she asks. 

“Uh— yeah,” he tells her, although he’s growing increasingly nervous. “But I, um— I don’t know that it’s the place that’s doing it.”   


She feels fear burning in her stomach. Shit. “What do you mean?”

“We were fighting something in the Wilds a little bit ago, and my magic was, uh… it was all messed up,” he says. “It wasn’t working.”

Lup feels her mouth go dry.

Her thoughts are interrupted when Lydia’s voice booms all around them. “Only one of you will play this particular game,” she tells them. “Let’s find out who it’s going to be.”

She diverts her attention from Merle to her surroundings. In front of her stands an impossibly tall screen displaying pixelated depictions of each of their faces. Under that is a small pedestal with two buttons, dwarfed in comparison by the screen above it. Lup really hopes this turns out to be a fun arcade game.

The faces begin to spin like pictures in a slot machine, flipping in and out of focus until finally it settles on Merle.

Merle steps up to the podium, visibly nervous, and stares at the bright red buttons before him. This time, it’s Edward’s voice that reverberates throughout the room. He explains the rules of the game— they’re standing next to a room that holds a deadly challenge while another group in the exact same situation as them holds both their fates in their hands. The two buttons are labeled “trust” and “forsake.” If they hit the button labeled trust and the other group does the same, they face the challenge at its normal difficulty, while if they trust and the other group forsakes, they’ll be forced to complete the challenge at its highest difficulty. However, if they were to choose forsake while the other team chooses to trust, they would skip the challenge entirely.

Before the explanation of the game is even over with, Taako shouts at Merle, “Press forsake!” 

Lup slaps him on the arm. He ignores her.

“Go ahead! Go! Press forsake!” he yells over the voices of their captors. “It’s probably timed! Go ahead and press forsake! I’ll do it! I have magic! Let me get Bigby’s Hand up in here!”

This time, Lup stomps on his foot. He yelps, then shoots her a glare. “What?” he asks, entirely innocent.

“We can’t send a bunch of randos to their deaths,” she argues.

“Mm, but we can,” Taako counters. “Come on. Don’t go soft on me here, Lup.”   


“Uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize ‘let’s not indirectly murder these people’ meant I was ‘soft.’”

“It does! It does mean you’re soft. We’re only  _ indirectly  _ murdering them. That’s not even, like, a bad thing! Not our fault if they can’t survive a little challenge!”   


“Kinda is, though.”

“Eh, beg to differ.”

Magnus jumps in with, “Guys, we’ve gotta pick trust.”

“Ugh,” Taako groans. “You both suck.”

He ignores him. “Listen, Taako, if we both hit forsake, it’s not gonna be great for us. But if we both hit trust—”

“We’ll still have to do the dumb challenge,” he interrupts. “Which, you know, I’m not doing that, so…” 

“We’ll be fine if we have to do the challenge, Taako,” she tells him. “I’ve got, like, a billion spell slots just ready to go.”

“Some of us,” Taako hisses, “aren’t immortal."

Of course.

She places both of her hands on his shoulders. He makes a face not unlike that of an angry cat. “No one is gonna die in here,” she says, her brow drawn, her voice gentle. “Not with me around.”

His face goes through a multitude of expressions before he finally manages to speak. “I—”   


And then Lup hears a loud, tinny ding noise.

All three of them turn to look at the screen, which now reads _ YOUR DECISION: TRUST!  _ Merle, standing idly at the pedestal, fiddles with his hands. “I got nervous,” he explains.

Before anyone can get a word out, equally large text appears next to the text already onscreen, this time reading  _ THEIR DECISION… _ while a space underneath it flits between  _ TRUST _ and _ FORSAKE. _ After it changes wildly for what feels like an eternity, it finally slows, and then… 

And then it lands on _ FORSAKE. _

“Fuck,” says Magnus.   


“Fuck,” says Lup.

“Fuck,” says Merle.

“Why am I always _ right?” _ Taako gripes.

The screen divides into two and splits, shaking the ground beneath them, gradually opening to reveal the next chamber: a factory room of daunting size, machinery lining the walls and ceiling. In the center, she can just make out some sort of hatch.

Sharing in the tense silence, they step inside.

-

Kravitz paces around the apartment, his Stone clutched tight in his hand as he tries, for the thirtieth time that day, to call Lup. 

For the thirtieth time that day, his Stone remains dim and unusable. 

Frustrated, he tosses it onto the kitchen counter. It bounces off of its surface and instead tumbles uselessly onto the kitchen tile below. 

He doesn’t have time for this. Something is wrong with the Sea and he doesn’t know how to fix it. He doesn’t even know what’s wrong with it. Even if he did, he doesn’t think it’d get him very far— if he tried to warn anyone, he’d probably only receive looks of concern or upturned noses indicating thinly-veiled disdain. Kravitz felt like a raving street preacher just trying to explain it to Jim. 

Lup would believe him. The Raven Queen would believe him.

_ God. _

It’s okay. He’ll be okay. Everything will be okay. He just needs to calm down, relax, and figure out what the  _ fuck  _ is in the Sea. No problem.

Except he can’t do any of that. His legs feel as if they’re moving on their own, crossing the room and then back again, and he can’t stop, can’t slow down, because if he slows down he’s letting everything get worse. Although, it’s not like he’s being very productive either way. What  _ can  _ he do? Stand on a table in the breakroom and shout that God has inexplicably disappeared and now there’s a demon in the Sea? 

He’s not the right person to fix this situation. Lup probably would’ve found a solution by now. The Raven Queen would have just given the thing in the Sea a stern look and it would’ve backed down. But Kravitz— Kravitz is already folding under the pressure. Kravitz isn’t a lich turned reaper with weird secrets and cursed friends. Kravitz isn’t an awe-inspiring deity that rules over the laws of life and death. Kravitz is Kravitz, and Kravitz just works and comes home and sleeps. The meaninglessness of time and total immortality caught up to him far too quickly. He’s got the most adventurous job in the universe and he’s managed to be both boring and useless. 

He needs help. He needs someone who will regard what he saw as the truth. He needs a best friend.

He needs Lup.

He doesn’t know why— he doesn’t even know if she’ll be able to help. But he needs to tell someone who will believe him and he just so, so desperately doesn’t want to be alone. 

Kravitz, unsure if she wants to see him right now, but sure that she’ll care, wills his scythe into his grip. If he can’t talk to her through the Stone, he’s going to have to talk to her in person. He just hopes she’ll want to talk.

Kravitz lifts the scythe, and, in one swift, familiar motion he’s practiced a million times, slices downward.

And nothing happens.

Heat rises to his face as his skin begins to grow numb with anxiety. No. No, no, no,  _ no. _ This can’t happen. Not now. Please, please, please, not now.

He rises the scythe again and slices, stronger this time, more determined, more magic flowing into this one. 

And nothing happens.

And, no, this can’t happen, this shouldn’t be happening, because Kravitz can’t be stuck here, he can’t, the Astral Plane shouldn’t be stuck, his  _ home  _ shouldn’t be stuck, and his friends can’t be sealed away on a different plane of existence, and he can’t be alone, not with this imminent threat looming over him and the souls in the Sea in danger. He feels like there’s a sword just above his head waiting to swing and he’s only biding his time until it finally, finally delivers its blow. 

Kravitz tries one more time, his grip on the scythe tight, his stance ready. He channels all of the magic he can, his palms glowing, illuminating the walls around him, and he lifts it, rears it back behind his shoulder, getting ready to swing. He closes eyes and takes a deep, shaky breath in an attempt to steady himself. And then he slices. Swift and strong and determined, he slices.

For a moment, there’s a flicker.

He knows this will work. He knows because it has to. Because he is so scared and so confused and he  _ needs  _ it to work. He  _ needs  _ this portal. And how stupid he was to think he couldn’t do it, that the Astral Plane was somehow isolated even though that’s never happened before, when it was only his nerves inhibiting him! He thought he was stuck. He thought he was trapped in some nightmare. He thought he had lost his ability to make a portal to the material plane. But here— here he has a flicker. Here he has a promise that this could work, is going to work, that he was just too in his head about this situation. He’s going to see Lup. He’s going to apologize. He’s going to find a way to get out of this mess because he has a  _ flicker  _ and that’s all he needs.

And just like that, the moment passes. The flicker is gone.

There is no portal. 

There was never going to be.

Kravitz lets his hands go limp. His scythe falls to the ground in front of him. 

Kravitz falls, too.

-

Lup has been fighting weird, regenerating poisonous slimes and flying, electrified dire bears for what feels like hours.

She’s rather beaten down and her spell slots aren’t going to last forever, no matter how much she’s trying to conserve them. Meanwhile, the others are getting their fair share of hits as well, which is just what she was trying to avoid. She was supposed to protect them. To make sure they didn’t get hurt too badly. To keep them from dying in the final world, where everything is permanent. Lup is going to be like this forever— unchanging, eternal, dead— and she’s _ lucky. _ They don’t have that kind of safety net anymore. 

Still, here she is. Failing. 

Lup doesn’t fail. Lup has never let anything stop her, whether it be death or plane-devouring monsters. Lup  _ will  _ keep them alive, whatever the cost.

She watches Magnus land a hit on the dire bear while she prepares some magic for her next attack. She’ll use a lower level spell, probably, even though she hates to since they’re already so beat up, but worse fights are probably to come. She has to save her better moves for later.

And then she hears a voice coming from every corner of the room.

“Hey, Taako, almost forgot,” says Edward in a tone that suggests he’s only half-invested in the conversation, but Lup knows he’s watching closely. “What’d you land on in that last round?”

Taako shrugs. “Uh, I ‘dunno. Bad luck?”   


Right as the words leave his mouth, Lup hears a loud, ear-piercing creaking noise overwhelm the ambient whistles and low hums of the machinery she’s been hearing. There’s a soft  _ clink  _ where a loose screw lands right at Taako’s feet.

And then a section of machinery comes tumbling down right on top of him.

Lup can’t help but let out a short, panicked shriek while she watches him crumple under the weight of the metal. His foot sticks out from under the machinery at an odd angle, while Taako’s face, which hit the ground hard, is already beginning to form deep, painful-looking bruises. His eyes flutter open. His gaze is distant. He groans in pain.

Fuck that.

That is Taako. That is Lup’s twin brother. That is her heart, and those motherfuckers just crushed him under industrial machinery. 

No one hurts her brother.

There is destruction ghosting at her fingertips, just like there always has been. She’s known that forever. She always thought of it as a burden, still thinks of it as a burden, that she seems to attract destruction wherever she goes, but Lup often forgets how useful destruction can be.

Her fury smoldering in her stomach, she lifts a finger and points it between the direbear and the slimes. 

And then she casts Meteor Swarm.

Fire comes crashing down on the spot where she points, engulfing both monsters in flame. She feels the heat right against her skin, making her eyes water, stray embers catching on her clothes, but she doesn’t care. The roaring of the fire coupled with the thunderous boom of its collision with the ground makes her ears ring, but she doesn’t care. The earth shakes underneath her attacks, trying to make her fall, trying to make her pay for the havoc she’s wreaking, but she doesn’t  _ care. _ They hurt Taako. 

She turns around wordlessly, paying no attention to the wreckage behind her, and grabs Taako’s hand, tugging him out from under the machinery. He doesn’t protest, nor make any indications of pain, and when she helps him to his feet, he doesn’t look at her. Instead, he stares at the scene in front of him, face illuminated by the flickering of the firelight. Lup stares at the bruises he’s been given— the cuts and the scrapes and the way he’s dragging his right foot. She wants to ask if he’s okay, but her voice dies in her throat. She knows he’s hurt. She also knows that she’s not letting it happen again.

When it begins to die down, Magnus clears his throat. “Um. Overkill.”

Lydia and Edward descend from the ceiling, lowering themselves until they’re floating just above the floor. “No kidding,” says Edward.

Without warning, Lup launches herself towards them, flames in either hand. The both of them make no move to dodge her, and when she does land her hit, her fist goes right through them. 

“Illusions, darling,” Lydia tells her. “You think you’re the first person to try and hit us? To reap us?” She tilts her head. Smiles. “Although, I guess the reaping part didn’t end up being much of a problem this time, did it?”

“We don’t show our actual selves unless you win!” Edward tells her, leaning down to pat her on the head. She jerks away. “It’s part of the prize.”

Lydia clasps her hands together. “Well, that was a fun challenge! Let’s see how you fare in the next round of Wheel of Sacrifice, huh?”

And then they’re gone. The door leading out of the room opens.

Everyone turns towards Lup.

To them, it looks like she just freaked out and cast a ninth level spell for no real reason rather than a (perhaps excessive) reaction to her twin getting hurt for the entertainment of those fucking bastards. It’s too early to let them know what she knows. They won’t understand. As soon as she begins to start speaking in static, they’re gonna have questions she physically can’t answer. They won’t trust her. She  _ needs  _ them to trust her.

She laughs nervously. “Uh, so… that was wild, huh?”

“You could do that the _ whole time?” _ Taako asks.

“Well, uh… Yeah. I mean, it was a ninth level spell, so, I was saving it, but—”   


“Then why’d you waste it on Taako?” asks Merle. Taako, visibly exhausted, gives him the middle finger.

“I just, um…” She sticks her hands in her pockets, rocking back and forth on her heels. “I, uh… I just wanted the fight to be over with, you know? I need a nap. You know, super tired, blegh.”

“Do dead people need sleep?” asks Magnus.

“No,” Taako replies, which earns him some stares.

Lup breaks the brief silence. “Maybe time for a heal?”   


“Yeah,  _ Merle,” _ Taako says, throwing a pointed look his way. “Our healer. Who heals.”   


“You got crushed, like, two seconds ago!”

“But would you have done anything if Lup hadn’t reminded you?”   


Merle opens his mouth, then closes it, then grumbles something she can’t quite make out.

Less than enthusiastic, Merle lifts his Xtreme Teen Bible. A golden glow begins to emanate from it, faint sparks shooting out from its pages, although in the middle of the spell, the glow falters and the sparks disappear. After the spell’s completion, he slams the book shut, frustrated.

Taako groans. “What was that? Like, ten damage?”

“Yeah, thanks Merle, my pressure headache went away,” Magnus deadpans.

“You couldn’t do more than a fuckin’ bandaid?” Taako gestures to his legs. “I’m dyin’ here, man! I already carry this whole team and now I’m gonna have to do it on broken legs!”

“I— I don’t— my—” Merle sputters. “My magic is all messed up! Pan’s giving me the cold shoulder! I don’t know what to tell you!”   


Taako opens his mouth to argue some more, but before he can, Lydia and Edward appear again, this time hovering just above his head.

Lydia offers a wide, toothy grin that makes Lup’s stomach churn. “You four aren’t trying to cheat, are you?”

Edward mimics her, plastering on a faux smile of his own. “Once you sacrifice something here,” he says, something sinister underneath his chipper tone, “you don’t get it back.”   


And then Magnus and Taako both double over in pain.

Lup’s blood boils. 

Logically, she knows they’re illusions. She knows she can’t do anything to them. But the rage thrumming in her veins, the knowledge that they won’t come back if they die on this plane, the fear that’s been gripping her for the past twelve years stirs to life. 

Her hands light aflame. Magic rises to the surface of her palms. Her breath comes in sharp, ragged bursts while her lip curls into a sour expression. 

Once again, she advances.

She releases fireball after fireball in their direction, which they effortlessly dodge, even without needing to. Still, Lup keeps going, her fists clenched tight, and they just  _ look  _ at her. So smug. Pitying, almost, although that’s not the right word for it. “Pity” would imply some level of sympathy. Here, it’s funny to them. They’re killing her family and they find it funny.

Lup takes a deep, shaky breath. _ “Leave my fucking family alone!” _ she shouts, seething, and releases a fireball the size of their heads. 

Their grins falter, just for a moment, as it soars by at a speed she didn’t know she was capable of. Meanwhile, Lup just barely notices tiny black wisps of something she can’t identify escaping the corners of her mouth and floating up to the ceiling.

Edward and Lydia recover without much trouble. Smile back on his face, Edward says, “Lup. So passionate.”   


“We’ll keep that in mind,” Lydia adds.

And then they’re gone.

Fuck.

Lup slowly turns around to face Magnus, Merle, and Taako once again. So much for not spewing static. 

The three of them stare at her like deer in headlights.

“Uh.” She sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Let’s move on, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everybody!!!!  
> i hope everyone’s doing well!! since it is now august i’ve been having my Oh No I Missed Class! nightmares. these are like regular dreams except for whatever reason the events of the dream are causing me to miss class and the whole time the main focus is “I AM MISSING MY FIRST DAY... OH GOD OH NO…... I AM RUINED.” just looming in the background while i go on my great dream adventure. the real great evil of the world…. is tardiness 😔  
> anyways!! i hope everybody’s doing okay!! and i hope you enjoyed the chapter!! i promise lup and krav won’t be separated for Too long. it’s the suffering game!!! i had 2 make them suffer. NEXT CHAPTER: lup and the thb go on a DATING SHOW!!!   
> thanks for reading!!!!!  
> tumblr: nillial


	14. The Dating Game/Defeat

Kravitz aimlessly stumbles out of his apartment, unsure of what to do or where to go next. He’s never been as lost as he is now— no goddess, no friends, no one who believes what he saw. He’s not sure how much time he has left before all hell inevitably breaks loose, but he needs to clear his head. A walk, maybe.

Unfortunately, Jim is right outside of his door, hands frozen in a knock.

This is the worst apocalypse ever.

“What do you want?” he asks, stifling an irritated sigh.

Jim doesn’t meet his eyes, instead choosing to focus on the wall at the end of the hallway, rocking back and forth on his heels. “We need you in the lobby.”

He draws his brow. “Who’s ‘we?’”   


Jim purses his lips, still avoiding eye contact. “Uh…” Redness crawls up his face. “Everyone?”   


Kravitz’s eyes widen as he realizes the thing Jim had dismissed him about earlier has now shown itself, and, evidently, is already causing problems. He hoped he would have had more time than this. 

“Why me?” he asks, frantic. 

“Because you saw it first.”   


“You’re the one who didn’t believe me!”   


“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t believe you saw an eldritch beast in the Sea of Souls.”

“You could have at least checked.”   


“You sound like a fucking child that needs their parents to look under the bed for the boogeyman.”   


“Yeah, well, this time, the boogeyman came to destroy the Astral Plane, so…”

“That’s a bit dramatic.”   


“Is it, Jim?” He tilts his head. “Is it dramatic? Is saying that the regenerating goo thing that lives in the Sea has surfaced to hurt us ‘dramatic?’” 

He opens his mouth to argue, but then abruptly pauses. “It regenerates?”

Kravitz takes a deep breath and rubs his temples before shoving his hands in his pockets and telling him, “Let’s just— let’s go.”   


They make their way towards the elevator. The silent ride to the lobby is rather awkward. Kravitz contemplates breaking the silence with a good “I told you so” just to really rub it in, but decides instead to save it for later.

When they finally reach their destination, he hears the screams and cries of his coworkers, most of which are overpowered by the thunderous banging on the building’s entrance. He sprints towards the noise, and, upon turning the corner, finds people cowering under the receptionist desk, others clinging to the wall, and others still desperately trying to use their reaper magic in order to create portals, but to no avail. About a dozen wizards try to utilize spells that don’t rely on celestial forces, some nervously readying attacks while others prepare magical shields in order to keep the thing at bay. They need to hurry, however. Judging from the cracks in the glass door, it won’t be long until the thing breaks through.

The thing itself has dragged its way up to the building, as well as the rest of the Sea. Water sits at the bottom of the doorway, some seeping through the cracks and spreading across the floor. It rears back an arm-like appendage made entirely of jet black slime before slamming itself against the wall, as if to knock. Or to simply to break through.

Kravitz drops his hands to his sides. “I don’t know what to do about this.”

Jim’s eyes widen with fear. “But— come on. I had Denise go check with the Raven Queen and— and she can’t find her— and you guys are friends, right? You have to know something.”   


“Yeah, well, she didn’t exactly show me her apocalypse defense manual, _ Jim.” _ _  
_

“Oh, come the fuck _ on.” _ He gestures to the crowd of frightened coworkers. “You’re the biggest asskisser out of everyone here. She had to have— I don’t know, some wisdom.”

Kravitz scans the room once again. As the monster gets closer to breaking through, everything dissolves further into chaos. Spellcasters become less cautious, influenced by fear and adrenaline, throwing magic at it without bothering to aim nor think of the consequences. Those who hide yelp at every noise, clinging tight to one another. Everyone screams at each other or at the monster or at the circumstances until all the words blend together. Meanwhile, the water level rises and the monster grows closer.

What can he do, really? His reaper spells are waning and all outside contact is cut off completely. The Raven Queen has disappeared. Lup left. Kravitz isn’t anything like them— he’s not as smart, not as bold, not as innovative. In a situation like this, he’s useless.

And when it really comes down to it— he’s  _ scared. _ He doesn’t understand this thing. He doesn’t know how to defeat it. He can’t even begin to fathom a way to protect himself and the rest of his coworkers. All he can think of is his inevitable demise at its hands. He’s too much of a coward to try and prevent this thing from destroying him and his home.

But Jim mentioned wisdom. Wisdom. Wisdom. What wisdom would the Raven Queen impart? What would she say to him now?

He scours his brain for memories. There are a lot, of course, given how long he’s been in the Raven Queen’s employ, but none that are particularly helpful. He tries to tune everything out— the shouts, the trickling of water, the wet thump of slime against the door— and he digs. There’s got to be something. There’s got to.

And then he finds it.

_ Kravitz is still young. It’s only a couple years after he died. He’s had time to settle in, time to grow into his new position as a reaper, time to forget the past, and yet he can still taste the blood on his tongue. Feel the magic in his body shocking him like electricity, prickling at his skin, rendering him immobile. Suffer through the awful sensation of his life being forced out of him bit by bit by bit, pulled through his veins, his body collapsing in on itself while he’s trapped inside it.  _

_ He’s still scared, although he doesn’t know what of. He can’t die anymore. He never has to endure something like that again. He made it through his training period and now can spend the next few years going on hunts with his new team until he’s deemed ready to do solo missions. Yet he still finds himself freezing right before reaping a death criminal. His whole body still seizes up when he comes across a necromancy lair. A few weeks ago, he learned the death criminal they were chasing was guilty of using Clone and he came up with a desperate excuse to leave. He eases the tension building inside of him with dumb jokes and silly accents, but, when it all comes down to it, he’s still afraid. It’s been two years and he’s still afraid. _

_ He’s playing bridge with the Raven Queen. She’s teaching him how it works since he never learned when he was alive. He’s getting pretty good at it, he thinks— though he has yet to beat her.  _

_ He examines his cards closely. Lays one down. Loses the trick for the third time. _

_ “I don’t think I’m good at this,” he finally admits. _

YOU ONLY THINK THAT BECAUSE YOU ARE LOSING. _ She pulls a card from the stock.  _ DO NOT FEEL BAD. I AM JUST AMAZING AT THIS GAME.

_ “No, I don’t mean— this.” He gestures to the cards splayed out in front of them. “I mean— I’m not good at being a reaper.” _

_ She tilts her head.  _ DO YOU NOT WANT TO BE A REAPER?

_ “No, no, I want to, I just—” Kravitz sighs. “I should be better at it.” _

WE ALL DESIRE TO BE BETTER AT THE THINGS WE DO. IT IS THAT DRIVE THAT IMPROVES US.

_ He sinks into his seat, arms folded in his lap, head down. “I don’t think I can improve.” _ _  
_

AND WHY IS THAT, KRAVITZ?

_ “Because I— because I’m not good enough,” he mumbles, ashamed. “Because I’m still scared.” _ _  
_

_ It’s then that the Raven Queen leans forward across the table. It’s the first time he’s seen her without the pin-straight back. It looks almost as if she’s unaccustomed to anything but perfect posture. She reaches up a feathered arm and gently takes his face into her clawed fingers.  _ LISTEN TO ME,  _ she says.  _ YOU ARE GOOD ENOUGH.

_ He tries to turn his head away, but she pulls him back forward to face her. _

THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH BEING AFRAID, _ she tells him.  _ IT DOES NOT MEAN YOU ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH. IT DOES NOT MEAN YOU CANNOT IMPROVE. IT ONLY MEANS YOU NEED TO TIME TO HEAL.

_ He feels tears stinging at his eyes as he struggles to blink them back. “I’m a coward,” he says, his voice breaking. _

BRAVERY DOES NOT EXIST WITHOUT FEAR,  _ she explains.  _ HOW CAN YOU BE A COWARD WHEN YOU ARE BRAVE?

_ He swallows the lump rising in his throat. “I’m not.” He shakes his head. “I’m not.” _ _  
_

KRAVITZ. _ She has no eyes, and yet he feels her stare on him.  _ TAKE TIME TO HEAL. THEN KNOW THAT YOU ARE GOOD ENOUGH.

_ Her grasp slips away from his face, her nail just grazing against his cheek. _

He used that advice then. He can use it now.

Kravitz squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fist, then unclenches it, then clenches it once more. Ignoring Jim’s questions of “What are you doing?”, he takes a deep breath to steady himself and lets it go just as slowly. And then another. And then another. 

When he opens his eyes, he takes in his surroundings. The situation is worsening, but he can fix it. He will fix it. He’s Kravitz. He’s good at what he does. He’s smart, and bold, and innovative, and he’ll keep this motherfucking slime monster at bay no matter what it takes. 

“Okay,” he says, finally. “I can help.”

Relief instantly spreads across Jim’s face. “Thank God—”   


“But,” Kravitz interrupts, “I’m gonna need an apology first.”   


Any indication of joy quickly drains from his expression. He gestures to the crowd screaming at the beast at the building’s doorstep. “Is now really the time?”   


“Jim, you’re a dick,” he says. “Apologize for being a dick.”

“I’m not a dick! You’re the dick!”   


“Come on.”   


“I— you’re— you—” He sputters. A loud thump against the door startles him and, at last, he releases a defeated sigh. “I’m sorry.”   


“For?”   


“Jesus Christ, seriously?”   


Kravitz levels him with a stern look.   


Jim takes a deep breath. Rolls his eyes. Reluctantly, he gives in. “I’m sorry for being a dick to you,” he mumbles.

“Oh, not just to me,” he corrects. “To Lup, too.”   


_ “What?” _   


“Yeah, you were a dick to her. She told me.”

“She did something she wasn’t permitted to do and then stole an entire bowl of candy off the counter!”   


“That doesn’t sound like an apology.”

He clenches his fist, looks up at the ceiling, and says through clenched teeth, “I’m sorry for being a dick to you and… to Lup.”

“Great.” He offers him a smug smile. “Now, if I could just get that on recording once our Stones come back online—”   


“Can you fucking do something now?”

Kravitz glares at him, but nevertheless cracks his knuckles and takes a step forward. “Listen up!” he shouts over the noise. The room falls silent, save for whimpers and the slamming of slime against glass.

Kravitz points to the few mages casting spells. “You guys, start casting anything that’ll reinforce the door.”

“Like what?” one asks.

“I don’t know! I only use reaper magic! Figure something out!” He shifts his finger towards the next group— the people who are desperately trying to cast spells that rely on access to the Raven Queen’s infinite power. “You guys, that’s not going to work. If you can do other magic, help the mages. If you can’t, head over to the counter.”

One of the people hiding behind the counter shakily asks, “Why?”

“Because you guys are going to move all the furniture against the doors,” he tells them.

They remain frozen in fear, pressed tight up against the safety of their hiding spots.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks. “That thing out there is gonna eat all of you in, like, ten minutes. You’re easy targets. Come on.”   


They all scramble to their feet and begin pushing against the counter. Others start dragging other pieces— houseplants, living chairs, end tables— towards the door. Kravitz, too, joins in the effort, choosing to push a rather heavy bookcase against the entrance. When all of this is over with, he’s going to ask Lup to teach him Levitate. 

After a physical barrier has been created and all of the furniture has been piled upon the door, the magic users step forward and each cast a shielding spell, layering them atop one another, creating a swirling bubble of shifting color to protect them from the thing outside.

For a moment, there’s only quiet. And then a frightened voice from within the crowd asks, “What do we do now?”   


Kravitz takes a deep breath. “Now,” he says, “we wait.”

-

Bruised, bloody, and beaten, Lup and her posse of amnesiac family members are making their way out of the monster factory and into the next torture chamber when there’s a voice that says, “Wow, you guys got boned that round. Why didn’t you pick ‘forsake?’ Y’all need to study some game theory.”

They all stop in their tracks, scanning the room with their eyes narrowed, except for Taako, whose ears perk up as he replies, “That’s what I said!”

“Uh,” says Magnus. “Who’s there?”

He and the voice play a game of hot and cold for a couple minutes until he finally finds its source. He slides a loose piece of machinery away, revealing a severed head tucked under it. Taako pretends to be afraid by deadpanning a scream. Meanwhile, Merle seems to be genuinely scared. She doesn’t blame him. It  _ is  _ a talking severed head.

The severed head introduces himself as Cam, a fellow victim of Wonderland. After ridiculing Magnus for a bit—  _ You only lost a pinky? That’s it?— _ he tells them he’s been trapped in Wonderland for a while. Apparently, he knows the place like the back of his figurative hand, and thus informs them why not picking forsake was such a bad decision. Something about odds. Lup is only half-listening, but picks up the tail end of the conversation where he offers to be their guide through Wonderland.

“You already have a guide,” she argues. “Me.”

Magnus shifts his eyes to the side. ”Well, um… yeah. But, uh…”   


“But what?”

“It’s just that— you don’t, uh…” He glances towards the ground. “... Don’t know what you’re doing.”

She places a hand on her hips. “Oh,  _ wow,  _ okay, Magnus. I see how it is. No appreciation for the gorgeous, genius, incredible lady who brought you this far.”

“Uh…” He twiddles with his thumbs. “Pocket spa meeting, everyone?” 

Taako shrugs. “I could go for tiny cucumber sandwiches.”

In response, Magnus digs a compact, house-shaped device out of his bag. He presses a button in its middle and throws it out in front of him, where it unfolds into a cellar-like entrance with a portal to a pocket dimension under its doors. Taako, stretching out his arms in preparation for an alleged relaxing day off, is the first to step inside, followed by Merle. Magnus gently sets Cam down and asks, “Are you gonna be okay here?”

“Yeah, it’s no prob,” Cam replies. “I’ve been collecting dust here for a bit. What’s a few more seconds gonna hurt, eh? It’s not like I spend every moment trying to—”

“Cool, thanks,” Magnus tells him before bolting into the Spa himself. Lup, although the umbrella has made her hate the idea of enclosed spaces within pocket dimensions, reluctantly follows.

The doors swing shut behind her, making her jump. However, her nerves are calmed when she sees everything the Pocket Spa has to offer— massage chairs, exfoliating scrubs, a platter of sandwiches laying next to an in-ground hot tub. If the Umbrastaff had this, maybe she wouldn’t have minded her ten year imprisonment. 

Merle has already settled into a massage chair, whereas Taako has his feet in the hot tub, munching on one of the sandwiches. Magnus, too, is in the hot tub, although he’s sat inside it with all of his clothes on. 

Lup kicks off her boots and sits next to Taako, taking a sandwich off of the plate. “Aren’t you gonna be, you know, dripping wet when we get out of here?” she asks Magnus.

“Nah, it’s totally fine,” he replies. “Taako, you have that Gust spell, right?”   


“No,” Taako tells him. Lup knows he’s lying. 

Magnus makes a face that Lup can only interpret as regretful. Nonetheless, he continues. “Well, uh, first order of business: the black smog.”

“Was it smog?” Merle asks. “I thought you guys were just vaping.”

“I can do both,” Taako says.

“No, not Taako’s vape.” Magnus leans against the walls of the hot tub. “Like, when we complain, black smog comes out of our mouths. I think it’s feeding them.”

Instead of commenting on the horrifying revelation that the Shining Twins have been eating their pain, Lup turns to Taako. “You have a vape?”

He pulls it out of his cloak pocket. “Here.”

She tries it, but immediately recoils. “Jesus, what flavor is that supposed to be?”

“I ‘dunno,” he tells her. “I got it from Pringles.”

“From who?”

Magnus perks up. “I thought he was in jail!”

“He is.” Taako snatches his vape from Lup’s fingers. “But I have my ways.”

“Hey, guys, if he’s in jail, then what does he use to make his vape juice?” Merle asks.

They all fall silent.

Magnus redirects the conversation. “So, uh, that smog, right?”

“So if we don’t wanna feed them, we can’t complain?” Lup tips her head back. “This is gonna be  _ so  _ hard.”

Merle slides off his massage chair to offer a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Luz. We’ll just complain with happy words.”

“First of all, Lup.”

“Gazuntite.”

“Second of all— happy words?”

“Well, sure!” he says, smiling. “We’ll just say ‘Oh, I love it here’ but  _ really  _ we’ll mean ‘I hate every second I spend in this place.’”

Taako offers his commentary. “Question: Does it matter if we say we love it here really angrily?”   


“Or if we say we ‘hate every second we spend here’ really happily?” Lup adds.

“We’ll try both. Problem solved.” Magnus cracks his knuckles, which doesn’t seem necessary. “Okay. What do we do about Cam?”   


“I think he’s a  _ head  _ above the rest,” Merle says.

“Come on, Merle, you’re getting  _ ahead _ of yourself.” Magnus gives an exaggerated wink.

“I’m going to murder both of you in your sleep,” Taako adds.

“He’s offering to be your guide. You guys already have a guide.” She confidently jabs her thumb towards herself.

Taako glances at her. “Really? Trust or Forsake?”   


“Trust.”   


He turns to the rest of the group. “Sorry, guys, this guide’s a dud. Let’s ditch her and bring the severed head with us.”

Magnus taps a finger against his chin. “Could be useful having him with us…”

“Wait,” Lup says, “are you guys seriously considering getting rid of me?”   


At the same time Magnus and Merle say “No!”, Taako chimes in with a “Yes.”

“Damn.” She leans back against her hands. “Guess I’ll just take my vape and leave.”   


She reaches into Taako’s cloak pocket and digs out the vape he just stashed away. Taako replies with an over-exaggerated, offended gasp and takes it from her before she can even try to dangle it over his head. 

Magnus redirects them back to the topic at hand. “Are we taking him with us, then?”

Taako shrugs. “Yeah, whatever. Just stick him in your bag and we’ll dump him out when we need him.”   


“Just tell him the candy lookin’ things on the sink are soaps,” Merle says, shivering. “Made that mistake once.”

Magnus clasps his hands together. “Okay. Meeting adjourned. Lup, you wouldn’t happen to know Gust, would you?”

Lup does know Gust. Taako taught it to her. “No, sorry, man.”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “In retrospect, jumping into a hot tub fully clothed was a bad idea.” 

After a few more minutes in which Magnus desperately tries to towel himself down while she, Taako, and Merle munch on cucumber sandwiches, they climb out of the Spa. 

Cam greets the four of them with a, “Hey, you guys, how was your time in there? Was it nice? Was it cool? I wouldn’t know. I got stuck behind some machinery ten years ago and I haven’t seen anything other than this room since.”

“Great news, Cam!” Magnus tells him, beaming. “You’re hired!”

“We aren’t paying you,” Taako adds.

Cam’s eyes widen. He sputters out, “Wait, really? You’re serious?”   


“Yeah, no pay at all. Can’t stress that enough. Absolutely no gold,” Taako reiterates. 

“What would I spend it on? A cool new pair of shades? Shampoo?” He glances up at his hair. “Actually, I could really use some shampoo. I haven’t washed my hair in ten years.” 

“Me neither, brother,” Merle says.

Lup cringes internally.

Cam ignores him. “I can’t believe I’m gonna get to leave this room. I mean, Wonderland sucks, don’t get me wrong, but, God, I would really love some change in scenery.”

“Great!” says Magnus. “You wanna hang in my Pocket Workshop for a while?”

The smile fades off of Cam’s face while his expression morphs into confusion. “Your— what?”   


“It’s a little room with, like, a bunch of woodworking stuff and whatever. The works.” He digs it out of his bag and shows him a house-shaped device, not dissimilar to the Pocket Spa. “You ready?”

Magnus clicks the button and tosses the Pocket Workshop onto the ground. As it unfolds into an entrance, Cam protests—  _ “Oh, I don’t know, I’ve been in one room for a really long time and just to go from there to a different tiny room seems kind of depressing, especially going from one room with machinery in it to another room with machinery in it, can’t I just ride on your shoulder or something?” _ — but Magnus only picks him up on either side and drops him in. “Have fun!” he yells after him before closing the doors. The Pocket Workshop folds itself up again and he stuffs it back into his bag.

Magnus, still grinning ear to ear, places his hands on his hips and says, “New tour guide, guys!”

-

Kravitz waits.

All he can do is wait.

They’ve piled up as much as they can against the entrance, cast as many shield spells as they could, but the monster outside still tries to break their defenses, slamming itself against the door accompanied by a rhythmic  _ thud, thud, thud. _ And so he waits, battle stance ready although he knows it won’t be of much use.

Nina from HR leans over and asks, “What do we do when it breaks through?”

And Kravitz doesn’t know, but he doesn’t want to admit it. He wants to act like he has the answers, that they’re going to be okay, that they can fight it, but the water is up to their ankles now and the monster doesn’t seem to be getting tired. This is the end, although he doesn’t entirely know what that means. He supposes he’ll find out soon. 

Nina is still staring at him, her eyes hopeful, awaiting a solution that he doesn’t have. So Kravitz just tells her what he knows they’ll have to do eventually: “We leave.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied, but she leaves him alone nonetheless. 

_ Thud, thud, thud. _ He wonders where the Raven Queen is. He wonders if that thing has taken her. He doesn’t know how it would, but, then again, he doesn’t know much about it at all. He doesn’t want to find out. 

He wishes she were here.

_ Thud, thud, thud. _ Is Lup okay? Is Taako? Is Magnus? Is Merle? Do they need help? Do they think he’s abandoned them? Do they care at all? 

_ Thud, thud, thud. _ Kravitz doesn’t know what will happen once that thing takes him— and it will take him. The building is unfathomably tall, but it has an ending, like everything else. Inevitably, he’ll be a casualty in the demise of the Astral Plane. 

He wonders if that’s what this is— the demise of the Astral Plane. It fits, he supposes. No goddess, no powers, no hope to cling to. Everything has an end, after all. Maybe this is his. 

He’s not ready for an end.

Then again, nobody ever is. If anything, being a reaper has taught him that much.

_ Thud, thud _ — and then a _ crack.  _ The water level begins to rise even quicker than before. _ Crack. _ The sound of it is deafening against ears that don’t want to hear it.  _ Crack. _ From behind the layers of shields, he sees a slimy, jet black appendage creeping up from between the cracks of the furniture stacked against the wall. It slithers until it’s right up against the first shield. For a moment, he thinks he’s safe, but then it grows until it’s the size of the shield bubble around it. It presses against it and easily breaks it in a few seconds. It does the same with the next layer of shield. And the next. And the next. Eventually, it breaks out entirely, carelessly tossing the furniture at the entrance all over the place. It hooks onto the floor and begins to pull itself forward. 

There’s a frightened silence that permeates the room. No one speaks, likely because they can’t choke the words out. Kravitz, however, breaks this silence when he swallows down the lump in his throat and rasps out, “Run.”   


Everyone breaks off in separate groups, sprinting as best they can towards the exits, although significantly slowed by the water, which, by now, has reached their knees. He looks over his shoulder to see the slime wrapping itself around one of his coworkers who had tripped and fallen. They reach out for help, scream, but no one is willing to sacrifice themselves. It absorbs them into its mass and they’re gone. 

He dashes up the staircase, which is unfathomably long, but he doesn’t really think that the elevator is the safest choice at the moment. A few people who haven’t fallen victim to the thing outside follow behind him, bounding up the steps along with him. They don’t speak— there’s no time to— but two minutes pass by, then five, then ten, then fifteen, and he finally decides to stop. The people behind him stop, too.

He gets a good look at those who have decided to follow him. There’s Jim, who, if he’s being honest, he’s slightly disappointed to see. Nina, eyes wide, still shaking. Gretchen from Finances, Daryl from HR, Ethel from IT, and some that he can’t recall the names of, although there aren’t many others left. Really, given the size of the workplace, there weren’t a lot of people fighting off the slime to begin with— most of the employees must be blissfully unaware in their apartments or respective office cubicles, or stuck on the material plane after heading out on a hunt. As for them, they’re alone in a stairwell. 

From the small crowd gathered behind him, someone asks, “What do we do now?”

And Kravitz admits what he doesn’t want to admit: “I don’t know.”

-

The Shining Twins greet them with the same smiles they’ve had plastered on their faces since the moment they stepped inside Wonderland— too wide and too teethy to be human, yet she can’t prove it. 

“The wheel’s a bit hungrier this time!” Lydia tells them. “Especially since you’ve added a new member to your party.”   
Magnus presses a hand to his chest and feigns offense. “What? What new member? How  _ dare  _ you accuse us of adding a new member to our party when there’s _ no one  _ here!”

Merle leans over and whispers, “But what about—” until Magnus elbows him, at which point he goes, “Oh! Oh, yeah! No, we don’t have anyone with us.”

“Did you miscount the first time?” Taako gestures towards Lup. “People  _ do  _ say we look a lot alike.”

Lup looks him up and down. “I don’t see it.”

“This isn’t our first rodeo, so to speak,” Edward tells them. “The Wheel knows there’s another person in your party, so that means an extra sacrifice. Moving on!”   


Before any of them can protest, the neon lights on the wheel turn on and alternate so quickly that Lup feels a bit sick looking at it. 

Merle reaches up and stretches. “Well, I have the most hit points, so…”

“I’m immortal,” says Lup. “I could—”   


Taako coughs. Loudly.

“— could go for spaghetti after this. Haha, me too, Lup,” he adds. He then leans over and asks out of the side of his mouth, “Why would you volunteer? What are you? Mother Teresa?”

“I’m just sayin’, man, I’m not going to die, so—”

“Bup. Bup, bup, bup, bup,” he says, silencing her. “How about we take a page out of ol’ Taako’s book, see? Watch this.”

Merle steps up to the wheel and spins, landing on eye. Edward and Lydia share a grin before turning back to him with expressions of mock concern. 

“The penalty for this round…” Edward strides forward, then takes Merle’s chin in his hands and pokes him just below his eye socket. “... is one of those pretty peepers.” 

Lup feels a chill run down her spine. She elbows Taako. _ “Dude.” _

He holds up a hand. “Wait.”

Merle accepts the sacrifice. After some deliberation over what sort of covering he’d receive for his eye, his eye simply disappears and in its place is an eyepatch with an owl printed on it.

She gives Taako a sharp look. “What? What did you do there that you were trying to teach me?”

A self-satisfied smile grows on his face. “That,” he says, “is the art of hanging back and not giving a shit.”

Half of her saw this coming. The other half has been without Taako for too long.

Lydia clasps her hands together. “Okay. Who’s next?”

Magnus practically sprints up to the Wheel before anyone can open their mouths, as if he’s trying to be the first to finish laps in middle school P.E. class. He spins the wheel, which rolls and rolls before finally landing on an emblem of a clock. The elves, upon seeing this, offer him false pity before requesting ten years of life from him. 

Lup feels herself seize up.

This is the last cycle. It’s bad enough that Lucretia already gave up so much time— she doesn’t want Magnus to go through the same thing. He deserves to live the long and happy life he was promised before everything went to shit. She can’t go back and stop Lucretia from giving up some of her life, but here and now, she can stop Magnus. 

Before her brain can quite catch up with her, she says, “I’ll take it.”

Lydia and Edward turn towards her, lips curled, eyebrows drawn. “You do understand,” Lydia says, “that we can’t take ten years from you.”

Edward tilts his head. “Something else, maybe. Perhaps—”   


Magnus cuts him off with a, “Nah, it’s all good, Lup. I appreciate it, though.”

“No, Mags, you don’t—”

“Too late!” He averts his gaze towards Lydia and Edward and says, his smile bright, “I’ll take it!”

She watches as his hair grays and his face wrinkles, the smile lines at the corners of his lips deepening. Lup can’t help but frown. She always knew she’d have to watch this someday— her friends slowly aging— but she thought it’d be gradual, nearly unnoticeable, hidden by the trickle of time. Here, however, it’s presented for her in fast forward: a glimpse of what she’ll see for each and every one of her friends, for her family, for her brother. An eventuality becoming reality. A punch to her gut. 

Magnus, however, doesn’t seem to register the time he’s just given up. Instead, he grins and holds a hand to his chest. “Technically, this means it’s my birthday, so you all owe me a gift. I will accept cash.”

Of course.

Taako crosses his arms and sucks a breath through his teeth. “Well, guess it’s my turn.” He crosses his gaze over to her. “Unless…”

She suppresses a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

Lup walks up to the Wheel. Its size is menacing enough, but the creepy twin liches standing on either side of it makes it much worse. Ignoring them, she grabs hold of one of the Wheel’s rungs and gives it a hearty spin. After a few moments, it slows and lands on skull.

“Oh!” Lydia claps her hands. “What a coincidence! Just like your brother!”

Her shoulders tense. She swivels around to look at the rest of her companions. They only look confused. Magnus grabs Taako and Merle by the shoulders and pulls them both in for a huddle. As she watches them whisper amongst themselves, a lump forms in her throat.

Edward breaks her out of her thoughts, “Well? We need an answer.”

She takes a deep breath, ripping her eyes away from them. “I’ll take it,” she says. “I’ll take the bad luck.”

There’s a chill that travels down her spine, and then it’s gone. The sacrifice is made.

She makes her way back to the group, although all of them regard her warily now. Except for Taako. Taako, in her experience, is a very untrusting person who holds everyone he meets with some level of suspicion, so the reason why he’s no less cold to her after she’s caused static twice is beyond her. Maybe he just doesn’t care. Unless—

No. She can’t let herself hope for more.

“Welp,” says Taako, sauntering up to the Wheel. “My turn.”

He takes hold of the wheel and spins. It stops on an image of a body. The twins request some of his vitality— health that he doesn’t have to give.

It’s no question for her. Lup steps forward and says, “I’ll take the sacrifice.”

He, in turn, wags a finger at her. “No, no, no. What did I teach you about self preservation?”   


“I just think—”

“What did I say?”   


“I’m not—”

“Huh? What was it?”

She sighs. “Hang back and don’t give a shit,” she mutters.

“Hang back and don’t give a shit, that’s exactly right. Got it in one.” He turns back towards them. “I’ll take it, but only to teach my pupil a lesson. After this, she can definitely take my sacrifices, though.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, his knees buckle and he stumbles, nearly falling onto the floor. She can’t help but feel a pang of worry.

Merle cracks his knuckles. “Aright. Time for another go-around.”   


She reaches out a hand. “Oh, no, Merle, I can—”   


“I’m takin’ the lumps!” he argues, walking up to the Wheel once again. “I’m takin’ ‘em!”

She stays silent as he spins the Wheel. It lands on a question mark.

“Oh, chance!” exclaims Lydia. “Okay, Merle. All you have to do here is give up some items and the Wheel will decide if it’s equal to the sacrifices of your friends. Okay?”

Merle ponders this for a moment. Finally, he says, “Well, I’ve got this trust warhammer here, had it since I was a little sprout…”   


As he goes on, Magnus sidesteps his way next to her and whispers, “What’s the static about?”

She was afraid this was coming, yet expected it all the same. “I can’t tell you, Magnus,” she replies. “Static.”

“Then talk around it.”   


“There’s not much way to talk around it.”

He’s quiet for a second. And then, “You know something we don’t.”

Lup bites her tongue. “Yeah.”   


“And you’re not going to tell us.”   


“I  _ can’t.” _   


“You could try.”

“Magnus—”   


“Why are you here?”

She pauses. “What?”

“Why are you here?” he asks again. “You don’t know us.”

“But I  _ do,”  _ she tells him. She knows how he’ll interpret that, though. Just more static.

He’s silent. “There it is again.”

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “It’s like I said. I can’t tell you anything.”

“How can we trust you?”

She swivels her head toward him. “What?”

“We don’t know you, we don’t know who you’re working for, you just showed up out of nowhere… How do we know we can trust you?”

Lup is at a loss for words. She knew that the three of them probably didn’t trust her in the beginning and likely still don’t. She is, after all, a stranger in their eyes. To be confronted with it, though— to watch the same Magnus who used to race her around the rims of volcanos and pull dumbass pranks on their coworkers now ask how he knows he can trust her— is heartbreaking.

“I don’t know,” she says, finally. “I don’t know.”

Magnus’s brow furrows, He steps away from her.

Merle’s words come back into focus. ”... And my wedding ring.”

Lup quickly jolts back into reality. “Hold up, hold up, hold up,” she says. “Your fucking  _ what?” _

Merle proudly straightens his posture. “Oh, yeah,” he says, grinning. “I was married. No biggie. Just the hottest, juiciest man on the market, is all.”

Taako interrupts with a, “Never refer to yourself as juicy again or I’m jumping off a cliff.” while Magnus interjects with a, “You’re divorced.”

“And now I’m back as the hottest, juiciest man on the market!” He bites his lip in what he likely means as a seductive manner, but which Lup takes a step away from.

“That’s it,” says Taako. “I’m going cliff diving.”

The objects Merle has laid on the table disappear in the blink of an eye. The Wheel waits for a moment, but thankfully opens the door to the next room.

Merle confidently saunters towards the exit. Lup trails behind him, asking question after question, but he only walks ahead of her with a grin on his face.

-

They are on the roof.

They are on the roof and there is nowhere else to run.

They are on the roof and the water is rising, rising, rising.

They are on the roof and the thing is crawling closer.

They are on the roof and they are confronted with a truth they don’t want to acknowledge, a truth they thought they wouldn’t have to acknowledge for a long time, if ever: this is the end.

Kravitz has only encountered an end once, and even then, only briefly, but he does remember that it was terrifying. He remembers the pain. He remembers his only relief being the last dregs of life draining out of him and realizing that it was finally, finally over. He hopes that this isn’t like that. 

(The dread in the pit of his stomach tries to tell him the truth, though. He ignores it as best he can, but it’s hard to ignore the promise of an agonizing demise).

He looks out over the ledge. The water is close to spilling over. 

Someone asks, their voice hoarse, “What are we going to do?”   


And Kravitz could offer them false hope. That’s what they want right now. That’s what he wants right now. But he won’t.

“This is it,” he tells them. He watches their faces sink, one by one, sees the heartbreak and fear in their eyes, their expectations being shattered. He shouldn’t have spent so much time running. He shouldn’t have spent so much energy trying to fight the inevitable. All he did was make things worse.

There’s a sound of thumping echoing from the stairwell. They all know what’s coming, but they don’t voice it. 

Kravitz has regrets, like any person does, and his immortality has only given him time to build up a long list of things he wishes he had done. Some of his more recent regrets include, for example, not being with the Raven Queen when she had disappeared. Maybe he could have saved her. Maybe he could have come with her, at least. And he regrets not being able to tell Taako goodbye. He won’t know what’s happened to him. And Lup— he wishes they hadn’t fought. He wishes she had let him come with her. He wishes he could just go back.

A wave crashes against the roof. It begins to flood. Ahead of them, a slimy black tendril reaches out and starts to crawl.

Some try to run. Some are too tired. Kravitz stays firmly put and braces himself for the unknown. 

The water has risen to his knees now. There is no roof anymore, no building at all— just murky waters and the spirits within. The thing wraps an appendage around his ankle. At first, he tries to fight it. At first, he kicks and stumbles and attempts to run, but its grip only grows tighter and Kravitz has to remind himself that he can’t escape the end this time. It pulls him deeper into the water, and he kicks, and kicks, and kicks, but, of course, it’s no use. 

Kravitz is drowning.

-

They enter the next room to find yet another game of Trust or Forsake.

Immediately, Taako casts Mage Hand and uses it to slam the Forsake button over and over again. Lydia tells him that she appreciates the enthusiasm, but to wait until the game begins. The only reason Taako quits, however, is because Lup stomps on his foot and he loses concentration. 

Magnus scans the room and asks, “Are we just… in a loop?”   


Edward waves his hands dismissively. “Oh, no, no. We’ve programmed lots of variety into Wonderland.”   


“But we’re just— we’re doing ‘spin a wheel, trust or forsake, fight some monsters,’” he says. “That’s a loop, right?”   


“Well, yes,” Lydia replies, “but it’s different each time. And once you get your prize, it won’t be a loop anymore, will it?”

Magnus turns towards her. “Sounds like a loop. Doesn’t it sound like a loop, Lup?”   


She sighs. “I should’ve picked a different name.”

The screen above the pedestal begins to shift and spin until it finally lands on Taako. He seems pleased with this outcome, she thinks— or, at least, as pleased as one can look after they’ve been crushed with machinery and beaten halfway to death.

A muffled noise starts to escape Magnus’s bag. He opens it and, lo and behold, Cam’s voice is coming out of the Pocket Workshop.

“You know you have to pick forsake, right?” he says. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Taako replies, barely listening. “You know, I appreciate the heads up, but I’m gonna go ahead and choose ‘forsake.’”

As he walks away, Cam continues with, “Okay. Okay, yeah, great. Just, you know, it smells like cedar in here, which is nice, but it also smells like— like dude, I guess? Like a couple of dudes were here? Just— I’m gettin’ some residual dude smell. Can you guys do anything about that? Like, air freshener, maybe? I just—”   


Magnus closes his bag.

Lup calls out, “Hey, Taako. Taako, listen, I love you, man, but—”

“Weird thing to say,” he calls back.

“— but I really think maybe trust is the way to go here.”   


Magnus adds in, “Yeah, I don’t wanna fuck over other people.”

He swivels around on his heel just to give them both the middle finger. “I’m almost dead, assholes! Taako needs a break!”

She feels the nausea building in her stomach. Taako  _ is  _ hurt pretty badly, as much as she doesn’t want to face it. Lup came here to protect him and, so far, she hasn’t exactly been doing a stellar job. She doesn’t want someone else to get hurt, of course, and maybe it’s selfish, but her brother comes first. He always comes first.

Magnus elbows her. “Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

As she watches Taako bound up the steps to the podium, she tells him, “No. He’s right.”

The moment he reaches the podium, he presses his hand against the ‘forsake’ button. All of them watch with bated breath as the words YOU CHOSE: FORSAKE. appear on screen, accompanied by a rolling list of text that finally, finally settles on its answer. THEY CHOSE: TRUST!

She breathes a sigh of relief despite herself.

The screen parts and the podium disappears, revealing the next room.

Cautiously, they cross into the new fresh hell the Shining Twins have designed for them. She steps out onto a floor that's tile pattern resembles a game of Candyland, except that a bubbling green liquid surrounds the path to victory. She hears the sound of squeaking above her and, upon glancing at the ceiling, realizes a nest of bats have taken home there. They fly towards her and she covers her face in anticipation of the oncoming blow, and then—

“Oh, no, this isn’t right! Pardon our mess!”

The black smog from above lowers. Once it clears, instead of monsters and OSHA violations or bats and acid-filled board games, they find themselves on the stage of a large auditorium. In front of them are four podiums, each of which are adorned with a glittery pink plate that reads their respective names. She turns around to see a long magenta curtain obscuring the backstage, in front of which hangs a sign that says, in flowery fuschia text,  _ HEART ATTACK: THE HEROIC DATING SHOW! _

Oh, Jesus Christ.

A spotlight switches on and shines on her. A roar of applause sounds from the darkness shrouding the audience seats. She squints against the light, trying to take in the rest of her surroundings, but it's no use.

From seemingly everywhere yet nowhere at the same time, she hears,  _ “Live from the inescapable depths of Wonderland, it’s time for another round of Heart Attack, the heroic dating show. And here's your hosts, Lydia and Edward!” _

Lydia and Edward cross onto the front of the stage, wearing garish, sparkly pantsuits, comically large sunglasses, completing the look with a microphone in hand. They strike poses as the audience claps and cheers for them for  _ several  _ long minutes, until, finally, the applause dies down and Lydia gestures towards the four of them. “Welcome to Heart Attack! Are you four brave heroes ready for your only chance at love?”   


“Pass,” says Magnus.

“I have a boyfriend,” says Lup.

“Only if whoever we’re trying to date is hot,” says Merle.

Lydia dismisses them with, “Not an option! You don't have to play the deadly round, but we're still gonna have a little bit of fun. Doesn't that sound good?”

They all share a look and offer up an unenthusiastic shrug, except for Magnus, who says, “I cannot stress enough how uninterested I am in this.”

“We're not gonna have a good time with it, but we're pretty much prisoners, I guess,” Taako adds. “By the way, you  _ did  _ just say inescapable, so, like, how are things going? Pretty bad, it seems?”

As he speaks, black smog escapes his mouth. However, instead of floating towards the ceiling, she watches a small portion of it divert its path towards nowhere in particular and disappear into someplace unknown.

_ Huh. _

Lydia snaps a finger. In a split second, Lup finds herself a few feet away from where she was initially standing and instead positioned behind her podium. Just like that, the show begins. 

Beside them, a sheet rises. A light flickers on from inside, revealing the silhouette of what is clearly a mannequin. It moves like a marionette doll, offering a flirty wave that’s just a little too stiff.

Edward begins to explain the game to them, which is fairly simple— woo the contestant— when Magnus grips the sides of his podium, leans over, and shouts, “No! You know what? Fuck this.”

He continues shouting, arguing with Lydia and Edward all the while. Lup follows his gaze to the smog coming from his mouth. As expected, part of it is siphoned off and dissolved into nothingness. She squints, trying to see what’s really happening, but to no avail. Magnus seems to notice this, too, and, once he’s satisfied, he quickly apologises and complies with Lydia and Edward’s requests.

Edward, seemingly happy for the cooperation but undoubtedly less pleased that Magnus has stopped spewing smog, clasps his hands together and grins. “Question one: Magnus, what is your ideal first date?” 

Lup knows he was only shouting to observe the smog, but he does look genuinely uncomfortable to be there. The Magnus a hundred years ago would delight in the silliness and over-the-top flirting a situation like this would warrant, but this is no longer the Magnus from a hundred years ago. This Magnus built a life in a town that no longer exists. This Magnus spent a decade in a community that embraced him without a second thought, but which was stripped away in seconds. This Magnus has only the memories he forged himself and doesn’t truly understand how much he’s lost, but is forced to undergo the pain anyways. This Magnus had a wife, once.

While he launches into an answer, Lup peers at the spot that the smog vanished into. She swears she feels— something. Something necrotic in nature, although its energy is heavily obscured by all of the other necrotic energy surrounding it. It doesn’t help that her reaper power of heightened necrotic sensors is gone.

A voice breaks her out from her thoughts. “Lup?”

She jerks her head towards the voice’s source: Lydia. “Uh— yeah, what?”

Lydia’s smile falters, if only for a moment. “Ideal first date?”   


“Oh! Oh, yeah, right,” she stammers. “Uh— we look at your collection of bluejeans. Next question.”

Taako snorts. “Oh, Lup, we know somebody you would  _ love.” _   


“This next question is actually for Taako,” Edward tells her before shifting his focus to her brother. “Question two: you and our contestant are on a date when one of your fans recognizes you on the street. How do you respond?”   


He assumes an air of boredom and nonchalance, plastering on a neutral expression that reveals no real emotion, but Lup knows the truth. He  _ lives  _ for this shit. He acts unaffected because that’s who he is, but he thrives on applause and cheers. 

As he spins a response that basically amounts to “the fans come first”, Lup goes back to studying the spot the smog had disappeared into. There’s something there. She knows it. But if only she could find the why, the how…

Lup is a damn good scientist. She knows this. The IPRE knows this. The entirety of every board of any scientific endeavor she’s ever participated in knows this. She could, in theory, put her skills to use by figuring out some way to test the smog and the air around the siphoned smog for differences, then singling out a specific necrotic entity, although that would take much more time than she has and much more effort than she’s willing to give. Still, plans to experiment and equations she’s learned in the past pop into her head and she spends the next few minutes usellely constructing an experiment she’ll never conduct.

She is not a nerd, however.

Once again, a voice interrupts her. “Lup? Oh, Lup?”   


This time, it’s Edward breaking her away from her thoughts. “You keep drifting off like that, and I’m going to have to replace you! Ha!” 

Lup gets the feeling he isn’t joking.

“Sorry,” she replies. “Uh, to answer the question: I cast disguise self to make the fan look like me and I make my date shoot the clone.”   


Cheers rise from the audience. Part of her feels gratified.

“How romantic!” Lydia swoons. “Lup, new question. What qualities are you looking for in a partner?”

“Oh, easy.” She holds up a hand, counting things down on her fingers as she lists them off. “Smart, kind, nice ass, likes necromancy—”

Merle interrupts her with, “You’re a reaper. I thought you were supposed to hate necromancy.”

“What can I say?” she shrugs. “Nothin’s hotter than someone who reeks of death.”

Taako leans over to give her a discreet high-five.

“And you, Merle?” asks Edward. “What do  _ you  _ look for in a partner?”   


“Oh.” He gets this look on his face that she’s seen many times before— a half-lidded shit-eating grin, one that she considers a predictor of disaster— and he says, his tone lilted, “I just find confidence real sexy, you know?”

The crowd cheers.   


“And it helps if they’re good lookin’.”

The applause grows louder.

“But it’s not all what’s on the outside. The inside counts, too.”

The audience goes wild. The mannequin silhouette fans itself.

“For example,  _ gotta  _ have healthy phloem tissue. That’s what really does it for me. A nice shade of green and some big chloroplasts isn’t a turn off, either, although wilt isn’t a huge problem. Every plant is beautiful, you know?”

The crowd’s enthusiasm fizzles into awkward silence. 

Lydia clears her throat. “Okay, moving on. Magnus?”

“Uh…” He drums his fingers on the podium. “Top secret info, sorry.” 

Lydia tilts her head. The crowd boos. 

“There has to be something you can share with us and your adoring fans,” Edward prompts.

He only shakes his head. “Nope, confidential.”

She swears she sees Edward’s eye twitch. All the same, he moves on. “Taako? What about you?”   


Taako, who has been intensely focused on scratching a dick into the wood of the podium, glances up. “Oh, uh… rich.”

Edward blinks. “That’s… it?”   


“Yeah,” he says. “Gotta be rich.” He goes back to carving out a dick.

Lydia and Edward share a look. Lydia tells them, “You guys have got to step up your game! Our poor contestant isn’t impressed.”

None of them seem particularly concerned. 

Lydia moves on. “Uh, Taako, here’s a question for you: Why shouldn't the contestant choose either of your competitors?”

Over the years, Taako has mastered the art of false indifference. Few people can discern the slight twitches and changes in his expressions and interpret them for what they are. Luckily, Lup is one of those people. 

His eyebrows raise, just slightly, and the corners of his lip upturn for a split second, and, instantly, she knows what’s coming. He presses a hand to his chest and announces, in a tone that conveys that what he’s about to reveal is blatantly obvious information, “Uh… it’s _ me.” _

Applause builds in the audience.

He presses further, this time leaning onto the podium with a lopsided grin. “Hi, I’m  _ Taako? _ You know, from  _ TV?” _

The crowd roars, their cheers nearly deafening. A chair flies onto the stage and skids across the floor. Taako revels in this brief few seconds of fame he’s bought himself. He enjoys the praise, even if it’s from the deception of Wonderland.

She leans over to see the silhouette’s reaction. It sits, motionless, seemingly unimpressed. Taako must notice this, too, because she watches as he flicks a finger towards it, a few sparks shooting out as he does, and the silhouette enters a fit of laughter. At first, it’s only mildly creepy, but then the silhouette falls out of its chair and crumples to the floor, jerking wildly, yet still cackling. The curtain flails, but the inhuman way in which the silhouette moves is still plain to see.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she watches as he flicks yet another finger, casting another spell, although she doesn't see where it goes. All she sees is what happens next.

Taako slams his hands against the podium, his lip curled, and shouts, “You know what? Fuck all of this.” He leans forward, pointing directly at Lydia and Edward. “This fucking sucks. I'm done playing.”

A cloud of dense black smog exits his mouth, but this time, it isn’t absorbed by anything. It only floats up to the ceiling, undisturbed.

Lydia grins with a few too many teeth. “Well, if that’s how you feel, I suppose we’ll have to move on. Let’s see who our contestant chose for their hot date!”

The screen drops, revealing the mannequin, who is still flailing on the ground and crowing with laughter. Their segmented wooden limbs click against each other as they squirm. 

“It’s a draw!” Edward says. 

Lydia adds, “What a perfect conclusion! Hey, how does a bonus round sound?”

Despite their protests, it becomes clear that they’re going to have to do a bonus round, just like they've had to do everything else. They follow one another off the stage. The lights rise, illuminating the audience, and, of course, they’re all mannequins. She expected as much.

As Lup is making her way across the long walkway towards the exit, she’s suddenly struck by an overwhelming yet familiar energy. No one else seems to notice, but electricity pricks at Lup’s fingers and the scent of burnt ozone fills her senses and she  _ knows  _ that someone is there. More than that, she knows who it belongs to. She knows because she understands that energy better than anyone else in a thousand universes in a thousand planes of existence. She knows because she’s missed that energy for over a decade. She knows because she used to spend so, so much time with that same exact energy, watching the sun (or suns) rise on early mornings, poring over the textbooks of a world unknown to them, fucking around with science and magic they shouldn’t fuck around with just because they can and they want to. She knows because that is someone she loves. She knows because that is someone she never wants to lose again.

And, yet, it’s not. It can’t be. 

This is a trick. Another one of Wonderland’s deceptions. Lydia and Edward know everything she longs for the most and are using it to mess with her. If she hopes for more, it’ll only be worse for her. She can’t hope for more. She won’t. In a place like this, impossibilities have to stay impossibilities or else they’ll be utilized against her. 

Still— it’s just like him. 

Lup wishes it wasn’t just like him. At least then it’d be easier to convince herself that this is a trick. A ploy to make her vulnerable. 

And then—

And then—

And then a hand slips into hers.

She feels the ghost of it, the vague outline of a hand she knows better than her own, and her heart is beating so fast, and— and she didn’t know her heart  _ could  _ beat anymore, and— and she feels herself shaking. She’s shaking, and she hopes it’s not noticeable because she doesn’t want to be found out but she is so overwhelmed and so confused and so fucking  _ happy  _ and she doesn’t know where to put it all. This isn’t some sort of sick scheme. It’s not another trick of Wonderland. She knows, from the shape of his hand and the dips between his fingers, from the subtle roughness of his palm, from the faint shape of the small scar on his index finger that he got as a child, that no magic could ever attempt to recreate the meticulous detail with which 100 years have allowed her to passively memorize.

She feels her heart about to burst.

It’s him.

_ Barry. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everybody!!  
> hope you’re all doing well!!! im starting school again this week and am a bit nervous about it. when i was cleaning out my backpack for the new year i was looking at all the trash like.... look at u guys.... untouched by corona..... i feel like i am desecrating something sacred by throwing you away....... good news is i finally had a reason to dye my hair pink again!!!! oh how i missed having pink hair…. if anyone else uses arctic fox dye i highly recommend playing slime rancher while it sits. the scent combined with the bliss of harvesting fruits to feed to ur little slimes is a religious experience  
> anyways!!! hope y’all enjoyed this chapter!!! the dating game was one of my favorite parts of the suffering game. if they do another balance liveshow i just think a dating show would be neat. or game show of any kind. the silliness that could ensue!!!! think about it!!!! NEXT CHAPTER: bonus round, babey!!  
> edit: holy shit i keep forgetting. as of the last chapter this fic has officially reached 100k words!!!! can u believe it. i certainly cant. 100k words of lup krav friendship shenanigans  
> thanks for reading!!!!  
> tumblr: nillial


	15. Forgetting/Remembering

Kravitz is drowning.

Kravitz is drowning in an ocean he never thought he’d see for many years to come, but now he’s here and it’s— wrong. Corrupted. The surface above is slick black like an oil spill, allowing no light whatsoever to filter through. The water of the Sea itself is thicker than he expected. More of a plasma than anything else. He tries to move through it, but it’s like swimming in syrup. There are parts of it, however, that are normal— he suspects its viscosity is the fault of the thing currently dragging him downward.

The thing is wrapped around his ankle, its grip tight. He spends a few moments kicking and scratching, but it’s no use. This is it.

He can see the souls floating around him, bright against the black substance coating them. They’re sleeping. 

And Kravitz— Kravitz is getting tired, too.

He chokes on the water above him. His lungs are filled with it, and yet he can’t die. He’s going to keep drowning. Endlessly.

He wants it to stop. He needs it to stop.

As he is pulled further into the depths of the Sea, he catches glimpses of faces he knows. Reapers who were also casualties in the fight with the thing. They, too, have its tendril wrapped around their ankle, but they aren’t struggling, aren’t fighting— like the rest of the souls, they are asleep. 

He wants to go to sleep.

Kravitz has never had too many people who care about him. There’s the Raven Queen, but she’s gone and her realm is decimated. He loves her, but he doesn’t know if she’ll ever come back, and that makes his heart ache more than he can bear. There’s Lup, who he considers a best friend, but he’s not sure that she’s as fond of him. Maybe that fight was the culmination of ill feelings she’s been harboring towards him since the day they met. She was probably going to leave once the training period ended, anyways. She’s outgoing. She’s funny. She’s good at making friends. She was always going to be just fine. She’ll be fine, still, after he’s gone. She’s a smart woman who can hone her reaper skills on her own, if she still has them, and she has a whole family to help her. He hopes she completes her mission. 

And Taako—

Taako will move on.

For now, Kravitz is needlessly suffering fighting a battle he can’t win. For now, Kravitz is tired, and the water is stinging at his throat, and his eyelids are so, so heavy.

He’s lived a long life.

It’s time.

Kravitz closes his eyes and drifts off into a dark unknown.

-

Barry is here.

She rubs her palm at the place where his fingers interlocked with her own. She can still feel the electricity, smell the ozone— it’s nostalgic, almost. Reminds her of the way things used to be. And Lup wants to shout it to the world, to shake Taako and Magnus and Merle and scream,  _ “He’s back! Barry is back! He found me! He found us! He’s okay!”  _ but she can’t and she won’t. She’ll just keep walking, trying to control the uncontrollable mix of the joy and relief and heart-swelling love she’s feeling while tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. 

“Who’s ready,” says Lydia, ignorant of the lich near her, “for a bonus round?”

“I’m good,” Taako tells her.

“It’s non-negotiable!” Edward counters in a chipper voice, gesturing towards the door. 

After some shared looks of discomfort, all four of them step through towards whatever awaits them. 

They cross into a room with three separate platforms, one of which is labeled “Escape Game”, another of which is labeled “Healing Game”, and the third of which is labeled “Recovery Game.” Before anyone can do anything, however, Lydia says, “Oh, wait a minute! One of you has already played the escape game before!” She snaps her fingers and the platform labeled “Escape Game” dissipates into black smoke.

Magnus’s bag emits a familiar muffled voice. He opens it up just a little, and, as he does, Taako leans over and asks, “Hey, man, how’s it goin’?”

“Bad,” Cam tells him. “The escape game is how I got stuck in here. I lost.”

“How do you lose a bonus round?” asks Magnus. 

“Well— I mean— it’s a bonus round for the person who wins,” he explains. “I came in here as a guide for someone else. We were doing really, really badly, and we finally got to a bonus round, so we decided to play the escape game. The game was you could either keep going through Wonderland together or one of you could leave and the other would have to keep suffering here. I tried to convince her that the Felicity Wilds are so ruthless that it’d be a death sentence either way, but…” His lip curls in disdain. “She took the offer and left me here.”

Magnus shifts his gaze away from Cam’s. “Was this, um… was this an older lady? Or, like, a young lady who became older while you were here?”

Cam’s eyes light up. “You know Lucretia?”

Oh, shit.

He clenches his teeth and sucks in a breath. “... Yes?”   


“She’s our boss,” Taako tells him. “Well, except for Lup. She works for God.”   


“You make it sound like I’m a missionary,” she says, instead straightening her posture and sticking out a hand for Cam to shake before she realizes Cam has no hands. “Hi, I’m Lup. Super rad wizard, professional badass.”   


“What do you do?” asks Cam.

“Weedwhack ghosts,” she replies.

“We’re getting off topic here,” Taako says, holding up his hands. “The point is: Lucretia sent us to find you and rescue you.”

“She did?” asks Merle. Taako stomps on his foot and Merle corrects himself with, “Oh! Oh yeah! She did!” 

“Oh,” says Cam, a smile growing on his face. “Oh, wow. Maybe I was wrong about her. She sent you in here just for me?”   


“Just for you!” Taako tells him. “Only for you.”

“And for the relic,” Magnus adds.

“And for the relic,” he repeats. “But mostly you.”

“I’m— well, I mean, I’m flattered,” Cam says, his cheeks tinted pink. “But I don’t know if I can leave, since, you know, I’m just a head—”

“‘Kay, cool talk, see you later Cam!” Magnus says, zipping up his bag once more before turning back to the rest of the group. “So, healing game?”

“Yeah,” Taako says. “I’d like to stop having a broken leg.”

Magnus confidently turns back towards Lydia and Edward and announces, “One healing game, please!”

Edward smiles— did he have that many teeth before?— and gestures towards the platform designated for the healing game. They all step onto it, one by one, Lup being the last. As her foot hits the pedestal, a ripple of light spreads from underneath her shoes and encompasses the entire room, blinding her for a moment, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut. When she opens them, the scenery is bathed in pink and green neon lights and the four of them are separated into individual pedestals.

Lydia and Edward descend from the ceiling and into the center of the room. “We know some of you are faring a bit worse than others,” Lydia says, “so we’re offering you the chance to exchange some of your vitality to heal a friend. Mind you, this friend will only receive half the vitality you send their way.”

Merle cracks his knuckles. “Okay. After this, none of you can ever complain about me never healing you again.”   


“Oh, no, no, Merle,” Lup says. “I’ve got this.”

She reaches out and presses the red button in front of her, underneath of which is labeled  _ TAAKO. _ She holds it down. And holds it down. And holds it down. 

Within her, her insides twist and her muscles begin to ache. She can’t get hurt— not in a way that matters, no scars and no bleeding and no horrible wounds, just pain— but she feels scraping at her skin nonetheless, feels the beads of sweat forming underneath her forehead, feels her bones fracture and split. Her body screams for her to stop, but she keeps holding down the button. This is for her brother. For Taako. Of course she’d undergo this pain for Taako, shaking the entire way through, cradling her stomach as if to relieve the stabbing ache there. It’s Taako, so she keeps holding down the button. Lup feels the same pain Taako had been complaining of surging through her leg. She nearly stumbles and falls because of it, but manages to steady herself. It feels as if her entire leg is shattered in pieces. Every moment she spends standing on it is utter hell, sending a horrible, sharp pain up her spine. No wonder Taako has been limping. Still, she keeps holding down the button, and—”   
“Holy shit,” she hears him say beyond the ringing in her ears. “I’m— fully healed.”

She removes her hand from the button and collapses to the floor nearly immediately, her breath ragged and labored. She holds herself up by pressing her palms to the floor, yet she feels as if her arms may give way any minute. Her entire body is shaking. Still, the pain will subside. For now, Taako is safe.

“Uh,” says Merle. “Are you okay?”   


After spending a moment trying to catch her breath, she chokes out, “I’m— fine.” Slowly, cautiously, she grabs onto the edge of the podium and, after a few failed attempts, manages to pull herself up. 

“I’m good,” she reiterates. “I’m good. Anyone else need a heal? I can do it, no prob.”

Magnus and Merle look at one another.

“I’m alright,” Magnus says.    


“Same here,” Merle adds.

She leans against the pedestal in front of her for support. “Anyone? Ch’gal can take it, I swear.”

Edward steps in. “That was quite selfless of you, Lup.”

“Giving up so much health for a relative stranger,” Lydia contributes. “Right, Lup? A stranger?”

“A stranger with the same face as yours, the same dialect, the same humor…” He tilts his head, but the angle almost makes it look as if he’s broken his neck. “But a stranger.”

Lydia steps closer, her heels clicking against the tile, until she’s right across from Lup’s podium. She reaches out and takes her chin in her hands, knowing Lup is too weak and too tired to do much else than glare. “He doesn’t remember who you are,” she tells her, slowly and deliberately, her voice a whisper. “He’ll never remember who you are.”

“He will,” she argues, perhaps too loudly. “He has to.”   


“No, Lup, that’s where you’re mistaken.” Lydia lets her grin widen. “He  _ doesn’t  _ have to. And this— this is a place of sacrifice, not of recovery. Imagine what we could take from him. All the things he could give up without ever knowing what they were. Who they were.”

Lup feels anger, red and hot, rush through her. She bites Lydia’s finger as hard as she can, but it phases right through her. She only laughs and steps away, returning to her own brother. Why, Lup wonders, does she get to have her twin brother, who is cruel and sadistic and awful, but she’s lost her twin brother, who is everything that makes her world bright?

Edward snaps his fingers and the pedestals disappear, leaving only a dark doorway ahead of them. “Shall we move on?”

She doesn’t want to. She shouldn’t have to.

But then a familiar hand once again slips into her own and squeezes her palm. He’s reassuring her. Despite the circumstances, she can’t help but feel a flutter in her heart. She squeezes back as gently as possible.

She wants to speak to him. Wants to hug him and kiss him and tell him all about her grand adventures in the Astral Plane, of her new best friend, of how much and how deeply she missed him. But she can’t. Not now.

Lup, frustrated and exhausted but newly encouraged, trudges forward.

-

_ Kravitz is a child. _

_ He knows nothing of the world except for what the teachers tell him and the kids at school gossip about, except for the wisdom of his mother and the stories the neighbor ladies tell as they do their laundry, except for the meadow at the edge of town and the creek that runs through it and the forest he refuses to venture into because he heard his classmates whisper of the monsters that live there. He doesn’t need to know anymore than that. The world is small. This is a fact he’s come to accept. _

_ His mother takes him to church one day, grasping him by the hand as she leads him through the narrow aisleways and shuffles into a pew. He sits quietly for an hour, as he’s been taught to do, and later his mother will praise him for being such a good child and reward him with a slice of apple pie from the market. The truth is that Kravitz keeps drifting off. Church begins early in the morning, after all.  _

_ After the service, his mother asks him to stay close while she talks to some old friends, but Kravitz is more interested in the shiny piano organ at the front of the room. _

_ He wanders towards it, keeping an eye out for anyone who might stop him, but the adults are all distracted by their own conversations and he is small and unnoticeable. He slips by easily, finally reaching his destination. _

_ The organ towers over him, its pipes reaching far above him, its keys seated just below his eyes. He stares at the sheet music situated at its center, at the sleek, glossy keys, at the chipped paint next to them. It’s beautiful. _

_ He starts at the sound of a voice near him. “Hello, young man.” _

_ Kravitz jumps, but the person beside him merely leans down to his height. “I saw you looking at my piano,” they say. “Would you like to give it a try?” _

_ And Kravitz, after a moment’s hesitation, nods. _ _   
_ _ With the stranger’s help, he climbs onto the seat and stares at the infinite multitude of keys laid out before him. Carefully, he reaches out, and slowly, slowly, slowly pushes down on one, and— _

_ And suddenly Kravitz is no longer content with the world being so small. _

_ He presses one key, then another, then another, then many at the same time, discordant notes ringing out and echoing throughout the church, but the music itself is pleasant because it is new and it is his. He keeps playing until his mother shuffles through the crowd and towards him, apologizing for him and pulling him off the seat. He has lost his praise, but he doesn’t care. He’s discovered something better. _

-

The four of them cross into a familiar dark chamber with a familiar large wheel sitting in the middle of it.

“Another round of Wheel of Sacrifice,” Edward says, almost bored. “You know the drill.”

“Now, Edward,” Lydia scolds, “you’ve got to take this seriously. After all, the sacrifices are going to be much more intense this time.” She turns towards the group. “But I’m sure you all can handle it, hm? Who’s going first?”

Before anyone can say much of anything, Magnus strides up to the wheel and spins. It lands on an emblem of swords.

The corners of Edward’s lips tick upward. “Oh. You see, Magnus, if you accept this sacrifice, you will lose a fight. Literally. A battle from your past will have never happened.”

She watches Magnus’s face go through a series of expressions before he finally settles on indignance. “You know what? Bite my butt, I’m taking the penalty.”

An extra light flickers on above the door. 

“Hm,” he says. “Well, dump.”

“Next?” asks Lydia.

Merle steps up to the wheel, takes a spin, and lands on Mind.

“Oh, this one, Merle—” He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Like we said, the sacrifices are more intense this round. So, if you accept this sacrifice, you will lose the memory… of the birth of your children.”   


His what?   


His  _ what? _

_ “His what?” _ asks Lup.

“His kids,” Taako repeats, seemingly disinterested. “Get with the program, Lup.”

Merle swivels around. “I never told you I had kids!”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Taako takes a deep breath, then puts on an exaggerated expression of shock, placing his hands on his cheeks and asking, sarcastically incredulous, “Merle’s got kids?”

Magnus copies him, instead this time saying, “Merle’s a deadbeat dad?”

“Imagine my shock!” 

“I never would have expected!”   


“I’m aghast!”

While they continue ridiculing Merle, Lup only stands there, staring into the space ahead of her. Merle has kids. Merle has a family. In the decade she was gone, Merle had children.

And, if what Taako and Magnus are saying is anything to go on, he  _ left  _ them.

She doesn’t understand. She can’t make herself understand. When she lived with him for a century, Merle was kind and nurturing and definitely not the type to abandon his loved ones. He stuck around for those he had made a connection with. He spent his time with them. He made buddies with the apocalypse. How did  _ that  _ Merle end up leaving his children?

But she supposes he isn’t  _ that  _ Merle, just like this Magnus isn’t  _ that  _ Magnus and this Taako isn’t— 

Isn’t—

Like how this Taako is different.

She can’t imagine what happened in the years she was away that turned him from the paragon of compassion and devotion and joy into a jaded old man who abandoned his children. She doesn’t want to imagine it.

For now, she’ll focus on how Merle, no matter what he does and doesn’t remember, is here with her. And that she’s a pseudo-aunt, apparently. 

Merle breaks her out of her thoughts by saying, perhaps a little bitterly, “I’ll take the penalty.” A seventh light is added above the door.

The next few sacrifices go by without much struggle— Taako loses some dexterity (she’ll miss his sweet flips), Merle accepts incompetence in the next battle, Magnus takes a hit to his vitality, then earns some bad luck, and then spins again before anyone can step in. This time, however, he lands on Mind.

Edward smiles, cold and cruel and  _ wrong. _ “Magnus,” he begins, his voice almost reminiscent of a snake, his stare like a cat before it pounces, “You have someone that you... loved once, right? And they were taken from you by someone who you now hate. I wonder which one would be worse to take from you: the person that you loved or the person that you hate.”   


Lup’s breath catches in her throat at the same time Magnus’s does.

“I think we’ll go with… the latter.”   


She sighs in relief. Still bad, but not as awful.

Edward continues. “If you accept this sacrifice, you’ll forget Governor Kalen. You’ll forget all about him. You won’t be able to track him down. You just won’t know anything about who he is. You’ll remember what he did to you, but you will not remember who did it.”

Lup’s stomach twists into knots. She can only imagine how Magnus feels.

Her conversation with Julia was brief, but she knows how awful Governor Kalen is and she understands a need for revenge. Lup would want revenge, too. If it was Barry he’d done that to, for example— she’d never rest. 

And Magnus, stuck in a place without a woman he clearly loves, all because of someone who craved power and glory so much he was willing to kill for it… 

“I’ll take it, Magnus,” she tells him.

Taako elbows her. “Lup, what are you doing?” he hisses under his breath.

She shoots him a glare. “Uh, letting Magnus go on his sweet revenge quest? What are  _ you  _ doing?”

He rolls his eyes and instead addresses Magnus. “Listen, I don’t know who any of these people are, but I gotta say, this sounds chill as hell.”

“Taako!”   


“No, no, he’s got a point,” Merle adds. “Get on with your life, buddy.”

“Yeah! Exactly! Get on with your life!”   


Lup presses a finger to her temple. “You guys fuckin’ suck.”

Magnus ignores them. Instead, he stares at the ground, sets his jaw, and turns around to face the three of them. “Merle, Taako.” He gives her a sidelong glance. “Lup.”

They all quiet down, instead paying attention to him.

“If in your journeys, you ever meet a slimy asshole named Governor Kalen, kill him on sight.” His lip curls. “And tell him it’s for Julia.”

Magnus squeezes his eyes shut and accepts the sacrifice.

When he opens them, he looks just the slightest bit lost.

Taako takes a deep breath and releases it in a loud, exaggerated sigh. “Guess I’ll go next.”

He strolls up to the Wheel and spins. It whirls and whirls until, finally, it settles on Clock.

Edward taps his chin. “You see, this one— this is a bit tricky. Taako, you are of the elven people, and quite a handsome one at that.”

He nods as if listening to an intellectual lecture. “All true. I’m incredibly gorgeous. Go on.”

“Now,” he says, “Time doesn’t matter much to elves. We have all the time in the world, so to speak. So maybe we should take something that…” He tilts his head. “Diminishes over time.”

Taako draws his brow, leaning away a little. “What do you mean?”

“I think,” says Edward, “that we should take some of your beauty, Taako.”

He goes rigid. 

“I wonder if you would accept a sacrifice that deals a hit to your vanity like that,” Edward continues. “If you take this, Taako, you’ll just become… slightly less of a beautiful, young elf man.”

Taako swiftly recovers from his moment of showing a sliver of vulnerability and instead returns to his regular casual countenance. “Uh, yeah, I don’t know.”

Magnus chimes in with a, “I’ll take the spin!” but Taako sighs and says, “No…”

“You gotta make a choice, Taako,” Edward tells him. 

He purses his lips. “Like, how bad?”   


“Let’s put it this way: For the first time in your life you will be… plain.” He smiles. “You will look normal.”

And to the outside observer, it seems vain. But Taako has always placed so much value on his looks. They both have. Growing up, they didn’t have a lot going for them. All of their possessions fit into a backpack. But they had personal qualities, and even if some weren’t so great in the eyes of others (like their penchant for stealing, maybe, or their individualistic, self-preserving nature, with the exception of each other— Taako moreso than her), they had smarts, and cunning, and ambition. And beauty. They had beauty. 

Beauty was something they always took pride in. And they were never very modest about it, either, but that was okay. They never cared who judged them.

After a long time deliberating, Taako finally says, “I mean, I figure normal Taako is still head and shoulders above ninety percent of the population, so…” He shrugs. “Let’s go ahead and go normal!”   
As soon as the words leave his mouth, he is changed.

And he looks different.

His eyelashes are shorter, his brows are thinner, his freckles are gone— and he looks plain, like they promised, but what hurts is that he doesn’t look like her twin.

Part of the reason they valued their beauty is because no matter what they did or how much they changed they always, always looked like twins. But now— now—

It’s the subtlest differences. It’s the split ends and the wrinkles in his forehead and the bags under his eyes. It’s the limp hair and the duller irises and the lack of the mole on his neck. It’s the blotchy skin and the bump on his chin and the absence of the gap in his teeth. It’s everything— almost unnoticeable if taken one at a time, but taken altogether contributes to the plainness Lydia and Edward offered. And Lup, who still has all of the features they’d just stolen from Taako, no longer looks like his twin. A sibling, maybe. A relative. But not a twin.

She’s become more of a stranger.

Lup glances up towards Lydia and Edward. They’re smiling at her.

“Huh,” says Magnus, squinting. “Weird.”

“Lookin’ average, buddy,” Merle adds.

Taako gets a look on his face that she’s seen many times before and which is still noticeable despite the recent shift in appearance. “Not for long, my man.”   


Taako raises his finger, taps it against his cheek, and casts Disguise Self. His face morphs and changes until he once again looks like he did a few moments ago.

She feels herself grin. Fuckin’ Taako.

“Nice, nice,” says Merle. “You’re gonna have to keep burning that spell every hour.”

“That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” He glares at Lydia and Edward out of the corner of his eyes. “You fuckers better not take that literally.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” says Edward. 

“But you four aren’t ready for another round yet,” Lydia tells him. “You’ve still got another sacrifice to make and there’s someone here who hasn’t had a spin yet.”

Everyone turns to look at Lup.

She sighs. “Yeah, fine, fine, I get it.”

Shaking off the uncomfortable stares, she steps up to the Wheel. Grabbing onto a rung, she takes a spin. After spending a few moments watching the results alternate, it finally, finally settles on Mind.

“Oh,” Edward chuckles. _ “Mind.” _ _   
_

“I wonder what you should sacrifice?” Lydia asks, but from the look she shares with Edward, she assumes they already know.

Lydia strides closer, just barely brushing past her to lean against the Wheel. “Lup. You don’t hold a lot of things dear, do you?”   


“Never had the chance,” Edward says from behind her, sending a chill of fear down her spine. “You two were always moving, after all. Always leaving things behind. You can’t hold on to much when you’re never able to stay to appreciate them.”

“But there were people you were fond of, right?” she asks her. “A whole team of them. You grew close enough to call them family. You’d never had a family before.”

“And memories,” he adds. “You like your memories, don’t you? It’s all you had when you were trapped and alone. No one could ever take them from you. Or, at least— not until that glorified jellyfish came along.”

Lydia leans closer, whispering, her breath just ghosting at her ear. Lup tenses, wants to lean away, but can’t. “I wonder how much we could say before they stop being able to hear,” she murmurs. “I wonder what we could take without them even realizing it’s gone.”

“Fucking _ stop it,” _ Lup tells her between gritted teeth. She sees black smog rise from her mouth, but she pays no attention to it. She wishes Barry would come out here already. They could fuck these lich twins up together and have their happy reunion and never leave each other’s sides again. For now, she has to put up with this.

Edward rests an elbow against his sister’s shoulder. “What does she have that the Wheel will deem worthy?”

“Oh, nothing too bad, Edward.” Lydia flashes a smile at Lup, the neon lights glinting off her white teeth. “Yet.”

It’s then that Lydia stands a few steps away from her so that she’s in full view of the rest of the group, almost as if addressing them. “Lup, during your journey you’ve experienced a hundred different worlds in a hundred different ways. Of course, there are some worlds you’re more fond of than others. And, mind you, we’re not asking for anything too important, not for your anchor or for your knowledge, just— a memory you enjoy.” 

“You spent a year on the beach,” Edward interrupts. “It was fun, wasn’t it? Spending all that time with your friends. Your brother.” He looks pointedly towards Taako, but Taako only looks confused. “You took a break from agonizing over the people you lost and the looming threat of something you didn’t understand and you just _ relaxed. _ You didn’t get a lot of relaxing in your line of work. Not really.”

“It’s a year that you like reminiscing on, isn’t it? But,” says Lydia, “it’s not a sacrifice if it’s not hard to give up.”

“An entire year worth of positive memories.” Edward waves his hand lazily. “Gone.”

“Then again, it’s only one year out of the hundreds of years you’ve had. Your companions here have had an entire century stolen from them. It’s only reasonable to give one up yourself. I mean, keeping it is just…” She tilts her head, wide-eyed and hungry, and Lup swears her teeth are sharper. “...  _ greedy.” _

And Lup hates it here, hates the Shining Twins, hates the sacrifices and the guilt-tripping and the endless torture but— but she thinks maybe she has a point.

Magnus has just given up the knowledge of his wife’s murderer. Taako has given up his beauty. Merle’s lost an eye. All of those sacrifices are on top of the hundred years they don't know they gave up. Lup hasn’t given up anything substantial, not really, and the cycle on the beach isn’t too pertinent to her goals. It’s just a collection of nice memories.

Here, all she has to give up is one world from the hundred she’s had the luck to explore. It’s not so bad. 

“Fine,” Lup tells them, and as soon as the words escape her lips, she starts to forget.

The gifts Merle tried to offer them melt away, as do the afternoons spent in the sun and the evenings floating in the water. The skills she learned just because she could. The nights poking at a burned-out fire. Eating their meals on the beach. Cool sandy coasts. Helping tend to plants with Merle and fucking shit up with Magnus and trying to outdo Taako at surfing and diving contests with Lucretia and water gun fights with Davenport and pretending not to watch Barry while she laid in the sun. Picking up Barry’s glasses. The look in his eyes. The blush on his cheeks. Lucretia’s portrait.

And there goes her time with each of them. There goes the moments alone in the sun. There goes conversations she’ll never have again.

There goes Lup, picking up Barry’s glasses from the ground and sliding them over his nose.

There goes Barry’s flustered face, tomato red, the tips of his ears burning.

There goes her staring into soft eyes and her fingers grazing against soft hands, lingering there.

And there goes the portrait. Faces disappear, one by one, until Lup is the only one left. Within time, that’s gone, too.

When she opens her eyes, it’s all gone.

The final light above the door flickers on. Dazed, she staggers back to her friends. She has a pounding headache that’s hard to ignore and which only gets worse when she tries to recall what she just lost, but she supposes it’ll subside eventually. She wonders if this was what her friends felt like when the Voidfish took their memories. She hopes she’ll never have to know.

Taako gives her a sidelong glance, but stays silent. Evidently, he’s either figured whatever static-ridden spiel Edward and Lydia gave her isn’t worth his time or he’s trying to act like the static doesn’t bother him. Maybe both. 

Merle, on the other hand, just looks concerned. Whether it’s for her wellbeing or for himself, she doesn’t know, but she appreciates it anyway.

They start moving, but before Lup can take more than a few steps, Magnus grabs her by the wrist.

“What was that?” he whispers, but it’s more of a hiss. Magnus is a kind and gentle person, but he doesn’t like being left in the dark. 

She doesn’t pretend he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. It’d only make things worse. “I can’t tell you, Mags. I’m sorry.”

“Who are you working for? Why do you— why did—” He gestures towards the Wheel. The twins are gone now. “I thought we weren’t supposed to hear static anymore. I thought we—” He almost sounds defeated. “I thought we knew everything.”

She draws her brow. “But you’re still hearin’ it, huh, bud?”   


He doesn’t answer.

She sighs and gently removes his hand from her wrist. It doesn’t take much effort. “Listen,” she says, quiet and soft, “you don’t know how much I wish I could tell you what I know, but you’ll find out. I’ll make sure of it. Okay?”

He breaks his somber demeanor, if only for a moment, to tell her, “That sounds ominous.”

She can’t help but snort. “Sorry. I’m the Grim Reaper. ‘Ominous’ is kinda in the job description.”

He smiles, but it quickly disappears as he averts his gaze to the side. “Do you— Do you know me?”

She knows what he’s asking. Nonetheless, she says, “‘Course I know you.”

“But do you—” he sighs. “Did you know me before— before I stopped remembering all this stuff?”

Magnus wants answers. She’d want answers, too, if she were in his position. 

She can’t answer him in the way he wants her to. It’d only be static. So, instead, she tells him, “I think you know.”

And she turns around for the exit.

-

_ Kravitz is young and idealistic and naive. _

_ Kravitz is also determined.  _

_ Every time his mother drags him to church, he begs to play the organ. One day, he tells her, he will be the conductor of his own orchestra, and he’ll travel the whole world, and he’ll play all kinds of music. His mother pats him on the head and tells him that he is fourteen and meant to worry about school and homework and how to divide fractions, not leading an orchestra. He’ll have all the time in the world to worry about that. _

_ She is wrong. But Kravitz is young and idealistic and naive and he doesn’t know this yet.  _

_ Eventually, the organ player will give in to his puppy dog eyes and his hopeful demeanor and let him play the closing song. His fingers will stumble amongst the keys, but he’ll get better each time and the organ player will let him know how impressed they are. In truth, Kravitz’s music is less than impressive, but he’ll take the compliment to heart and repeat it in his mind throughout the day.  _

_ And then his mother will tell him he did a good job and she’s so proud of him, and then she’ll take him to the market to buy groceries where she’ll teach him how to determine which fruits are ripe and ask him his opinion on which color of yarn she should buy for her knitting and tease him about some boy he regrettably and unintentionally revealed he had a crush on, but his mind will be on music the whole time. He is going to be a conductor someday. There is no if about it. He is young and idealistic and naive, but he knows what he wants and he knows he won’t stop until he gets it. _

_ He will learn to regret this. But for now, Kravitz is young and idealistic and naive. _

-

Once again, the Trust or Forsake screen shuffles between their faces.

This time, however, it chooses Lup.

She raises her hands over her head and whoops, “Ha  _ ha, _ motherfuckers!” striding up the button with casual confidence. 

When she approaches the buttons, she rubs her hands together, wiggling her fingers above each one. “Hmm,” she says, pretending as if she’s contemplating to herself yet loud enough for everyone to hear. “Wonder which one I should choose.”

She glances up to watch Taako drag a hand down his face. Oh, how she missed being a twin.

“Pick forsake!” he shouts. “Fuckin’— I’m dying out here, you asshole!”

She watches Merle nudge him and whisper something that’s probably to the effect of ‘she healed you.’ Taako pouts and steps away from him. 

“Trust?” she asks. “Did you say ‘trust?’”

“You’re going to kill the smartest and hottest wizard on the planet!”   


“Huh, yeah, I don’t know what to choose…” She hovers her fingers over the forsake button.

“Yes! Yes! Forsake! Pick forsake!”

“Mm, yeah, maybe you’re right…”   


“I am! I’m always right! Pick forsake!”

She lowers her hand towards the forsake button, watching Taako’s eyes follow her fingers, just inches from choosing Forsake. Right as her fingertips brush against the button, she moves her hand away and slams it down on Trust.  _ “Psych, _ bitch!”

Taako presses his palm to his face. 

As she revels in the glory of being the coolest twin in the room, the screen behind her shifts and spins until it finally tells them that the other team chose Trust as well. In order to really dig in her victory, Lup uses both of her hands to flip off the sky.

“We’re still gonna have to fight,” Taako tells her, looking suitably pissed. “You know that, right?”   


“Yeah, but we’re not killing off some randos,” she replies, hopping off the platform. 

_ “I’m _ not a rando.  _ I  _ don’t want to die.”

“You’re on full health and you’ve got an immortal reaper who doubles as the best evocationist in the planar system to help you, dingus.”

“I’m not the dingus here. You’re the dingus.”   


“Sure thing, dingus.”   


“Dingus.”   


“Dingus.”   


_ “Dingus.” _ _   
_

_ “Dingus—” _

“You guys,” Magnus interrupts. He gestures towards the exit. “We gotta go.”

They follow, but Lup still catches Taako sticking his tongue out at her.

The four of them cross through the darkness. On the other side is a large circular arena, plated with detailed LED screens, all showing different landscapes accompanied by different dates and times. In the center is a pile of wooden mannequins, not unlike the ones they encountered during the dating game. Before she has a chance to question it, though, black smog lowers down from the ceiling and encompasses the mannequins, shaping them into the vague outline of a dragon while the screens surrounding them switch their images into that of a cave. When it decides that won’t work, the mannequins shift into a hill giant and the screens depict a tall mountain. When it decides it doesn’t want that, either, it splits the mannequins off into two separate beings while the screens all turn blue, each reading  _ Calibrating…  _ accompanied by a buffering symbol. Finally, the screens reboot, and, one by one, reconstruct a familiar cavern.

Lup watches as the mannequins take shape once again. One group of mannequins forms a spider, while the other creates the image of a man who she doesn’t recognize, but who’s toothy grin is menacing all the same.

Hmm.

It occurs to Lup that she may have fucked this one up.

-

_ Kravitz plays music on the street corners, in front of shops and bars, in the church on holidays. One day he will make enough money to leave his hometown. _

_ One day. _

_ But until then, he’s here. Playing on the sidewalk with an open case and only a couple gold to show for it.  _

_ He knows he’s good enough. He plays as easily as breathing and writes songs like his life depends on it. But the town is small and money is scarce and Kravitz— he’s just off to a slow start.  _

_ There’s a man he hasn’t seen before that passes by the corner he’s claimed and tosses a few gold his way. Kravitz watches as the coins clatter against the bottom of his violin case. Hell yes. _

_ “Hey!” he calls after him, pausing his song for a moment. “Thanks!” _ _   
_

_ The stranger looks back at him and smiles. And then he walks towards him. _

_ Kravitz lowers his violin and bow and anticipates what’s to come. He was just expressing gratitude. He didn’t expect for him to want to engage in a conversation. What’s he supposed to do? What does he say?  _

_ The stranger stops a few steps in front of him. “Hey, man.” _ _   
_

_ Kravitz is bad at conversation. This is a fact he’s come to accept. “Uh…” he manages. “Hi.” _

_ “Nice piece,” the man says. “You write it?” _ _   
_

_ “Uh— uh, yeah. Yeah, I did,” Kravitz tells him, and he can hear the pride crawling into his own voice.  _

_ “Wow.” The man leans back, his hands stuffed into his back pockets. “That’s so cool.” _ _   
_

_ Perhaps too eagerly, Kravitz responds with, “Really?” _

_ “Yeah,” he tells him. “Hey, where do you play at?” _

_ He purses his lips and shifts his gaze away, embarrassed. “Nowhere.”  _

_ The man sighs and clicks his tongue and for a moment Kravitz fears that he’s decided he isn’t worth his time after all. But then he says, “We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” _ _   
_

_ He looks up and just stares at him.  _

_ “Name’s Marcus.” The man holds out a hand. “Come on. I know a guy who knows a guy.” _

_ And Kravitz takes it. _

_ He doesn’t know it yet, but that will be the worst mistake he will ever make. _

-

She hates having to fight here— having to worry about never escaping and the deaths of her friends and the Hunger’s imminent descension. But Barry is here. Somewhere, he’s here, lurking in the background, waiting. It’s better with Barry here.

She can’t wait to see him again. She’s going to hold him and never, ever let go. 

They defeat the spider guy. He melts into black smog, the remains of which float towards the ceiling. Her surroundings flicker as the cave background disappears, and then—

And then—

It’s Phandalin. 

It’s scared townspeople and burning buildings and silent screams and his face,  _ Barry’s  _ face, there and then gone, herding people into a tavern in hopes of saving them. It won’t work, but he doesn’t know that yet. He’s compassionate and caring and he wants to help. Lup always loved that about him.

The black smog once again envelopes the pile of mannequins, all of which crawl over one another like lobsters in a tank until they finally resemble something humanoid, at which point the mannequins take on the image of someone she’s seen once before. Someone who’s fate gnaws away at her.

Gundren Rockseeker. A familiar gauntlet on his fist and fire in his eyes.

This is her fault. She knows it is. She’s always known that. Lup has heard of the black circles of glass, seen the Gauntlet’s aftermath, mourned for people she never knew, but she had never seen it up close until after Wave Echo Cave. There, she saw firsthand what her relic had been doing. There, she saw the faces she killed. There, she saw her boyfriend, soon to be dead just seconds after she found him. There, she saw a man overtaken by its thrall, drunk on power. There, she saw everything she had done condensed into one example.

And here it is again. A reminder of her wrongdoings.

Gundren Rockseeker’s mannequin clone slings a fireball at them. Lup is too distracted to counter or dodge and takes some damage, along with the rest of the group.

“What the fuck, Lup?” Taako asks, clearly pissed. “You’re supposed to hit him.”

And she knows that, she does, but it felt— wrong.

“Sorry,” she chokes out. “Don’t know what got into me.”

He sighs. “Well, it almost cost us a fuckin’ phenomenal wizard, so…”

“And an incredible, buff fighter. Plus some weird old dude.”   


Merle clears his throat. “Cleric.”

Magnus gives him a look. “Uh-huh.”

“Guys, I just— I—” Lup takes a deep breath. She can’t look even a false depiction of Gundren in the eye. He died because of her and killed because of her and leveled a whole town because of her. Besides— he looks too much like Cyrus. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, okay.” Taako rolls his eyes and resumes his fighting stance. “Just get your shit together.”

-

_ The stranger who gave Kravitz a few gold for his music is no longer a stranger and instead is a friend. And Kravitz, who has never had many friends before, is ecstatic.  _

_ They spend a lot of time together. He watches Kravitz perform. Kravitz walks him to work in the mornings. They stroll among the streets and get hushed in libraries and talk for hours and hours and hours. He finally has someone to share his thoughts with. Someone to share his music with. Someone who will listen. He is happier than he has been in years. _

_ They are sitting on a bench outside of a tavern where they’ve eaten dinner. They’ve been talking about nonsense, like they always do. The sun dips further down into the sky with each passing minute. Kravitz watches it set. _

_ Marcus breaks into a grin. “Oh, man,” he says, “I almost forgot to tell you.” _ _   
_

_ He reaches into his bag. _

_ And he pulls out a book. _

_ Kravitz peers closer at it, trying to make out its faded title. It’s bound in leather and the pages are yellowed and loose. There’s a thick dust caking it that seems to have been recently wiped off the cover, but that doesn’t make it any more readable. “What does it say?” _

_ Marcus only smiles and holds it up towards the candle flame of the streetlight. _

_ The Necromancer’s Grimoire.  _

_ “Oh.” Kravitz draws his brow. “Like, bringing dead people to life?” _ _   
_

_ “No, no, Kravitz, it’s more than that.” His face is shadowed with the soft light of the sunset, contrasting with the bright fire in his eyes. “You can do everything with this.” _

_ He tilts his head. “Uh-huh.” _ _   
_

_ “No, you can! Really! I was looking through here, and— man, there’s so much. I started reading a little and, I mean, there’s sacrifice with every spell, of course there is, but the beginner stuff is just little material things and spell slots and whatever—” _ _   
_

_ “What about the advanced stuff?” _

_ Marcus laughs. “Oh, don’t worry, dude. I’m not gonna start murdering folks for magical powers.” _

_ His stomach churns. “There’s— is there murder in there?” _

_ He chuckles once again, but he seems a little offended. “Are you actually scared?” _

_ “No! No, no. Ha. No.” Kravitz taps his fingers against the wood of his seat. “Uh, where’d you find that, anyway?” _ _   
_

_ “ _ _ Oh, get this. I ran into this old merchant dude on my way home last night, right? He said he was about to pack up and head on to the next town. So I was like lookin’ at his cart and I found this super old, messed up book, and I asked him how much it was, and he let me have it for two gold. Can you believe it? Two gold.” He holds it out in front of him, admiring it. “He was practically giving it away.” _

_ Kravitz’s instincts are telling him this is bad. He ignores them. This is Marcus. This is his friend. He wouldn’t do anything wrong. _

_ Marcus glances up at the sky. “Sorry for keeping you so long, man. Didn’t realize it was this late.” He shoves his book back into his bag. “Walk you home?” _ _   
_

_ And Kravitz agrees, choking down his nerves and his anxious thoughts and the nausea swirling in his stomach. He tells himself everything will be okay. Everything always turns out okay. _

_ It’s a comforting thought, but Kravitz is too naive to know that it’s not the truth. _

_ He stands up and he lets Marcus walk him home. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everybody!!!!!!!!!!  
> i hope y'all are well!! i am an idiot and missed my zoom class today bc i messed up the time i was supposed to show up and then i sat there waiting for it to start 20 mins after the class ended looking like the human version of the very polite cat. HOWEVER. i am dipping back into my anime phase for a hot minute bc blue exorcist season 2 came out on netflix. i am now rewatching the first season for the third time. AND!!!! we are babysitting a basset hound tomorrow, folks!!!!!!!! we have babysat him before and he is the silkiest, softest basset hound i have ever met. our very greasy basset hound is not fond of him. i think he's jealous  
> anyways. i hope you all liked this chapter!!!!! krav and lup are both having a Time, but in separate places. NEXT CHAPTER: SO MUCH HAPPENS. 12K WORDS OF PLOT, BABEYY. GET READY FOR ACTION.... ROMANCE..... OTHER THINGS EXCITING CHAPTERS HAVE...... IT'S GONNA BE SO FUN  
> thanks for reading!!!!!!!  
> tumblr: nillial


	16. Together Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everybody!! just wanted to warn y'all that this chapter includes a death scene. if you'd prefer not to read it, skip from the sentence "'I found it the other day,' he tells him. 'I wanted to explore it with you. Come on.'” to "Lup stands at the top of the winding staircase, greeted by a door."  
> alright!!!! thank you so much for reading, enjoy the chapter!!

_ Kravitz is sure that everything is okay. _

_ When Marcus starts talking more and more about the necromancy he’s learned and a few of the spells he speaks of sound questionable at best, he keeps his mouth shut and he nods and he ignores it. It will pass. Marcus is a good person who would never hurt anyone and Kravitz is sure that everything will be okay. _

_ And when Marcus tells him of power, of how he aims to achieve it, of how there are shortcuts and paths to immortality at costs that are infinitesimal compared to the benefits, Kravitz doesn’t ask him of the price. He already knows. He also knows that Marcus is a good person who would never hurt anyone and so Kravitz is sure that everything will be okay. _

_ And when Marcus starts to withdraw from him, starts to hole up in his house and stops going to work in the mornings, waves Kravitz away when he has a new song to play, he doesn’t question it. He is busy, is all. He doesn’t know what he is busy with, but he understands. And he doesn’t worry, no matter how many times Marcus snaps at him or insults him or slams the door in his face, because Marcus is his friend. He’s the only friend Kravitz has. Besides, Marcus is a good person who would never hurt anyone and Kravitz is sure that everything will be okay. _

_ This is an immutable fact that Kravitz reminds himself of every time Marcus slips further and further away towards something he doesn’t understand. It will all be okay. It will all be okay. It will all be okay. _

_ Right? _

-

Lup’s brother is a fucking tyrannosaurus rex. 

Which is fine. This is fine. This is par for the course. She half-expected something like this when she followed them into the House of Horrors. It’s just— her brother is a T-Rex.

Is it weird that she’s jealous?

She hurls yet another fireball at the reconstruction of some purple worm Taako, Magnus, and Merle must have faced at some point or another when she spots dark smog being diverted from the ceiling, then shaped in the form of a rectangle before finally solidifying into a door. It shifts between what type of door it wants to be— first metal, then glass, then wooden, then back to metal— but it remains a door, and that’s fine by her. Still an exit.

“Thank you, Barry,” she mutters under her breath. 

She feels a gentle nudge at her ankles that pulls her off her feet. She realizes, suddenly, that she’s being lifted into the air. She also realizes that Merle and Magnus are with her, too. She  _ also  _ realizes that she is clutching to the oversized tooth of an extinct dinosaur and that the wetness she feels dripping down her shoulder is actually saliva. Her brother the T-Rex’s saliva. She is reminded of when he used to try and make her shut up by holding a hand over her mouth and she’d just lick it. Perhaps this is her punishment for that. 

Either way, she wants to go home.

As she is lowered to the ground in front of the door, she feels T-Rex Taako’s jaw retract. She stumbles onto the floor, shaking off the spit, and when she glances behind her she notices that now-normal Taako transformed before everyone had hopped out of his mouth. She knows this as fact because Merle has his entire hand inside of Taako’s mouth, which she hopes was not by choice.

He spits it out, his nose scrunched up in disgust. “Take a shower sometime, old man.”   


“What are you talkin’ about?” Merle places his hands on his hips, proud. “Ladies love Eau de Merle.”

“Okay,” says Lup, “we’re leaving now. Hugs and kisses, Barry, see you on the other side here in a minute.”

“Who?” asks Magnus. “What?”   


“Don’t worry about it, babe.” She holds open the door for him, gesturing inside. “After you?”

Before he can respond, the purple worm they were battling comes crashing down behind them accompanied by a deafening roar, sending all four of them sailing through the doorway. Lup skids across the tile and comes to a stop just in front of the wall. Groaning, she lifts herself up. They’ve all landed themselves in a plain, circular room devoid of any features save for the several cylinders lining a spiral staircase. As her blurry vision clears, she notices an inscription upon the cylinder they’ve just shot out of. Stumbling towards it for a better look, she reads only four words: TAAKO, MAGNUS, MERLE, LUP.

Hmm.

There’s shuffling from inside Magnus’s bag. He unlatches it, then unfolds a small corner from his Pocket Workshop, allowing Cam to tumble out.

“Hey, guys,” he says. “I think I’m gonna, uh, hang back.”   
Magnus draws his brow. “What?”   


“Yeah. I mean, I know you guys were sent to get me and all, which is cool, but, I mean, let’s face it. I’m a disembodied head. I’m pretty sure Wonderland is the only thing keeping me alive.” He casts Levitate. “See you guys.”   


And then he backs away from them and into the dark.

“Can’t believe we sacrificed all that stuff for that guy and then he just dips,” Taako scoffs.

As he gripes, Lup steps closer to the staircase leading up. Its top is obscured by darkness, but she thinks she already knows what’s up there. 

Lup grips the railing and begins to climb. 

-

_ Marcus invites him to a picnic. _

_ And Kravitz, who has endured the past few months of his angry shouting and targeted insults and days of reclusiveness, believes that maybe it’s over. Maybe this is his olive branch. _

_ He is wrong. He does not know this yet. _

_ He instructs him to meet him at the edge of the creek, just before the woods begin, a boundary Kravitz was too afraid to cross when he was young and thus a place he has never explored. But he’s sure it’s fine— he is grown now and he knows there are no monsters that lie within the woods. _

_ When he arrives, Marcus peeks at him from between the branches of the trees. His eyes are bloodshot and his face has grown sallow and gaunt, but he’s smiling. Kravitz hasn’t seen him smile in a long time. He ignores the fact that there is something off about it, something wrong, because he is happy. That’s all that matters. _

_ Marcus tells him that he’s glad he’s there, that he has something nice prepared, that he’s sorry he’s been so distant lately— he’s been working, you see, and it’s just about finished, and oh, Kravitz, just wait until you see it— and he gestures for Kravitz to follow him. He obliges, of course. Marcus is his friend, despite the past few months of hardship. Despite the hurtful digs and the secretiveness. After all, he has his good days— days which make him nostalgic for times when things were better, days which reassure him that Marcus has just been irritable, is all, has just been tense, has just been feeling off.  _

_ Trusting him is a mistake, of course, but Kravitz doesn’t know that yet. _

_ Marcus leads him through the woods, the trees and foliage growing exponentially thicker the farther they journey. It’s relatively silent, except for the singing of the birds and the snapping of twigs beneath their feet. Kravitz is afraid of ruining the moment by accidentally sending Marcus into an outraged screaming fit, so he stays quiet unless he’s spoken to. Still, there’s a nausea twisting in his stomach, an instinct in his gut that screams at him to run, run, run. He ignores it. It’s nothing. Marcus has undoubtedly recognized the past error of his ways and is working to fix their strained friendship, the first step being a picnic. _

_ After spending a while walking in quiet, Marcus pauses abruptly. “I want to show you something,” he says. And then he reaches for a branch above him, pulls it out of the way, and reveals a tiny abandoned shed nearly overtaken with rot and plant life. _

_ “Oh,” he replies. “Um—” _

_ “I found it the other day,” he tells him. “I wanted to explore it with you. Come on.” _ _   
_

_ Kravitz doesn’t disagree nor voice his doubts. He doesn’t want to annoy him. Besides, it’s just an old shed. What could possibly be the danger in peeking inside? _

_ When he takes too long to reply, Marcus grabs him by the wrist, leads him over to the shed’s entryway, and all but shoves him in. _

_ The shed is caked with dust, except some places which look newly disturbed, like the footprints of the floor and the handprints on the shelves. It’s empty, too, except for— _

_ Except for an empty tall container in the corner, which, judging from the drag marks on the ground and the shiny glass it boasts, is a new installment. _

_ But why? _

_ Marcus slams the door behind him. Kravitz jumps. _

_ “I think,” says Kravitz, voice shaking, “that I’m ready to go now.” _

_ Marcus laughs with no humor. “Come on.” _

_ “No, really, Marcus, I think—” _

_ He pulls a knife out of his pocket. _

_ Kravitz’s throat goes dry. “Wh— What—?” he chokes, unable to manage much more.  _

_ And then Marcus carves out a chunk of his own arm. _

_ Kravitz tries to scream, wants to scream, but all of the air has left his lungs. Marcus grabs the square of flesh he’s just severed, blood trickling down his fingers while more gushes out of his wound, and calmly strolls to the container in which he drops the skin into. Blood smears across its now-stained walls.  _

_ He doesn’t bother to look at him when he says, “I’ve been working on something lately.” _

_ Kravitz backs away from him, trembling footstep by trembling footstep.  _

_ “I wanted a way to live longer,” he continues. “Necromancy has shown me that life is infinitesimal compared to death. Life lasts only a few decades, but death— death is an eternity. An endless, merciless void I don’t want to face. There should be a way to extend it, right? It’s just unfair for a person to be given a taste of freedom and thrills and opportunity only for it to be snatched away from them. But all of the options posed sacrifices I just couldn’t make.” Marcus turns back to look at him. “Except for one.” _

_ Kravitz bolts for the door, pulls and tugs at the doorknob, desperately trying to swing it open and run far, far away, but it doesn’t budge. And he keeps trying, because his heart has crawled into his throat and he’s feeling lightheaded and feverish and, God, he can’t breathe, and it’s so, so hot in here yet so cold at the same time, and his entire body is shaking, and— and—  _

_ “The door is magically sealed shut,” Marcus informs him, entirely nonchalant, as if telling him the grocery store is closed. “I need you for this to work, Kravitz.” _

_ And he wants to run, needs to run, but his entire body is frozen. “Please,” he rasps in a desperate plea for mercy. _

_ He stares right at him, his stare cold and unnerving and devoid of all traces of the Marcus he once knew. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.” _ _   
_

_ “ _ _ Marcus—” _

_ He kicks him in the stomach. Hard. _

_ Kravitz tumbles onto the floor and rolls into the wall with a loud thump. Gasping for air, he reaches up to place a hand on his pounding head. It comes back bloody. _

_ He starts to mutter something under his breath. Kravitz can’t hear it past the rushing of blood past his ears, but he knows that it hurts. _

_ He crawls across the dusty, rotted floorboards, desperately grasping at the wood, clawing at it, pulling himself across and towards the door as if that will save him. Still, even now, Kravitz believes that maybe, just maybe he can gather up enough adrenaline to kick the door down— it’s weak with age and rot, so how hard can it be?— and after that, he can run fast enough to find his way out of the woods and call for help. The other part of him, however— the louder part, the part which he doesn’t want to face— knows the truth: he is going to die here. _

_ Marcus, still muttering, stomps on his hand. Kravitz yelps in pain and retracts it.  _

_ The more he speaks, the weaker he feels. There’s something wrong, something he can’t quite understand, but he knows that there’s a dull ache beginning in his chest and spreading throughout his body. He knows that his lungs don’t feel as full as they should be. He knows that he feels like something is being pulled out of him, like a hair from a throat or a hangnail from a finger or a loose tooth from a mouth. Slow and steady. The longer he endures it, the more excruciating it becomes.  _

_ He tries to speak, to beg, to scream, but no sound comes out. Only faint rasps and whimpers. And the pain is getting worse, so much worse, like he’s being stretched limb from limb, and Kravitz tries to lift his arm in an attempt to do something, anything, but it falls limply to the ground in only a few seconds. He is weak and he is tired.  _

_ He blinks at the ceiling, his breath coming in ragged, labored bursts. It’s as if someone is slowly crushing his lungs, shattering his ribs, and Kravitz can do nothing but lay there and watch. He supposes that’s the situation he’s found himself in, although less direct. And his heart— why is it so slow? He can hear it, can feel it thumping in his chest. It should be much faster, especially given the fear. And there is so, so much adrenaline in his veins, so much panic in his stomach, so why are his eyelids so heavy? He should be fighting right now. And why is his vision so blurry? Why can’t he manage to pull himself up? Why him? Why, why, why? _

_ The pulling sensation from inside his throat worsens by the minute. He feels like a clown that swallowed a rope. _

_ He manages to roll his head to the side facing the container. Inside it, the chunk of Marcus’s flesh glows and pulses and begins to spread. _

_ No. _

_ He shifts his gaze towards Marcus. Grinning, not breaking his chant, he lifts his necromancy book off the table and leans down right next to his face, making sure that he can see it. _

Clone.

_ He tosses it at Kravitz’s feet and returns to his position, as nonchalant as ever.  _

_ He tries to squeak out a plea or an apology or a final ‘fuck you’, but he can’t. His throat is constricted by something he can’t name and he feels as if he’s vomiting up the air he breathes, silently retching and writhing and praying to gods that he’s never prayed to. _

_ The last dregs of his life are tugged out of him. He chokes on it. _

_ Kravitz’s lungs are crushed from the inside out. He’s too weak to move, too tired, and every word he tries to produce dies in his throat. _

_ Everything hurts. He’s never felt a pain worse than what he’s enduring now: the fire in his stomach, the ache shooting back and forth through his body, the agony of knowing he will be dead in the next few minutes. He can no longer breathe— his lungs refuse to, turning every gasp of air into a cough. He can no longer speak— his tongue rejects him, swollen and useless, throwing every word he tries to say back in his face. He can no longer live— the blood inside of him is running cold and he feels like there are fireworks being set off in his brain despite the exhaustion that overtakes him, not to mention his slow, steady dips in and out of consciousness.  _

_ And what of his mom? She doesn’t know where he is. She’ll likely never find out. And of the church? They will mourn him, yes, but they will move on to a different piano player and speak of him in low tones, hushing when his mother arrives. And what of his mom? She will weep and scream and beg for a life that’s already been lost. And what of the bakery down the street he visits on Thursday mornings? Will they notice he’s gone if he fails to pick up his loaves of bread and couple of bagels, if he’s not there to make small talk, to wave goodbye as he exits through the double doors? And what of his mom? Will she be the only one at his grave? How long will she mourn her only child? Will he be the cause of her misery? Will she know who stole his life away from him? Will she bring him justice? What of his mom? What of his mom? What of his mom? _

_ The pain drains away until it suddenly vanishes completely. His ears ring until there is nothing but total silence. His vision darkens, and darkens, and darkens, and Kravitz falls. _

_ He is no longer a man, but instead a corpse on a dirty floor. Lifeless. Nothing more than scrap for buzzards to peck at and worms to eat. _

_ And he stays like that for a while— in a quiet, deserted purgatory meant only for himself, the pitch blackness he stands in all-encompassing. An eternity asleep. _

_ An eternity alone. _

-

Lup stands at the top of the winding staircase, greeted by a door.

And she can’t go through.

She is at the brink of the end— she knows this, knows that whatever happens beyond this door will be the conclusion of their journey through Wonderland, and yet— 

And yet she can’t go through.

It seems too easy, almost, to be able to cross through into a final territory, to have her boyfriend back at her side after all this time, to be with her family, even after the relentless, merciless suffering they were all forced to endure. She’s ready to leave. She wants to leave. But can she? Will she?

Lup is a phenomenal wizard. She has survived worse than Wonderland and she will again. Still, she has other people to think about. People who no longer have the safety net that immortality provides. People who she cares too much about to ever lose.

“You know, it’s real simple,” Taako says from behind her. “You just reach out, grab onto the doorknob, turn it…”

“I know how to open a door, Taako,” she snaps. “I just— I— I need to make a call.”

“Oh,” Magnus replies, “you can’t use Stones here—”   


“No, not a Stone call, it’s—” She stuffs her hands in her pockets. “Give me a second, okay?”

Ignoring the confused murmurs of her friends, she slinks over to the corner and drops to her knees. She plucks the feathers from her cloak, one by one by one, and lays them out in the shape of a circle. They won’t work. They’re not real raven feathers, but instead a mere projection of her form. Still, she has to try.

She presses her palms on either side, channeling her energy into the spell that would allow her to commune with the Astral Plane. For a moment, she feels the spark of electricity beneath her fingertips, the lightning underneath her hands, but it quickly fizzles out into nothing, blocked by a force she can’t see. Just like she expected, the spell doesn’t work. Even so, she says her piece.

“I need you,” she mutters under her breath, hoping someone will hear it, though the more pragmatic half of her knows no one will. “I need you, Kravitz, now more than ever. I need you to be okay, and I’m— I’m sorry, Krav, I really, really am, and I didn’t mean any of what I said, I just— I made a mistake.” She takes a breath, deep and unsteady. “And, um, I don’t think this is going to reach you. I mean, I know it won’t. But on the off chance that you hear this, Krav, I just need you to know— I need you here. We need you here.”   


After a brief moment of silence, she clears her throat and says, “Also, I found my boyfriend. No big. He’s kind of, um, not  _ huge  _ on the whole ‘no necromancy’ deal, so don’t be mad when you meet him, okay? ‘Kay. I gotta go beat up some folks now, so, like, see you later, babe. Say hi to her Royal Gothness for me. Bye.”

She removes her palms from the cold tiled floor, feeling none of the usual magical disconnection she feels when a spell ends. There was never a spell at all. She was essentially leaving a voicemail to no one.

Not like she expected anything more. Lup rises to her feet, dusts off her pants, and kicks the faux feathers away. They dissipate into thin air.

Merle pokes his head over. “Are you done? I wanna lea-a-ave.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m done.” Lup saunters towards the door as if the past few minutes had never happened. “Here, move aside.”

She stands in front of the door, staring.

And then she pushes it open.

-

_ When Kravitz wakes, he’s greeted by the image of a queen with a bone face and a long, dark cloak concealing the rest of her figure. _

_ He scrambles away from her, gripping onto the marble floor below him as if it will be of any help. She tilts her head, waiting. Kravitz halts. _

_ She extends a skeletal hand ten times his size.  _ GREETINGS.

_ “Who— Who are you?” He gulps down he didn’t think he’d breathe again, patting himself down, feeling for any differences. He was dead. He died. How is he here? Where is here?  _

I HAVE ANSWERS TO ALL OF YOUR QUESTIONS. 

_ “I— what?” _

_ She holds her free hand up to what he thinks must be her chest. _ OH, I APOLOGIZE. I MAY HAVE HEARD THE QUESTIONS IN YOUR THOUGHTS. MY BAD. OMNISCIENCE IS A CURSE AND ALL.

_ Trembling, he holds out an accusatory finger and points it at her. “You’re a demon! That’s what you are! Or— or a fever dream! Or—” _

HOT DAMN, MY CHILD, CALM DOWN. I AM NONE OF THOSE THINGS.

_ He lowers the finger he’s using to point at her. “Who are you?” _

_ She leans down, her face nearing his. _ I AM THE KEEPER OF ORDER. THE RULER OF SOULS. THE ETERNAL GODDESS WHO MAINTAINS THE INHERENT BALANCE OF LIFE AND DEATH. I AM THE RAVEN QUEEN.

_ He instinctively backs away. “Oh.” _

_ She leans back and returns to her original position. _ PRETTY DOPE, RIGHT?

_ He doesn’t respond. _

NOW,  _ she continues, _ YOU ARE A VICTIM OF A HEINOUS CRIME. I BELIEVE YOU ARE AWARE OF THIS.

_ He nods, staring into her empty eye sockets. _

YOU WERE TAKEN BEFORE YOUR TIME DUE TO THE GREED OF ANOTHER, AND FOR THAT I OFFER MY CONDOLENCES. TO LOSE YOUR LIFE IS NO EASY EXPERIENCE, ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES AT THE HANDS OF A FRIEND.  _ She tilts her head.  _ NORMALLY WHEN A SOUL DEPARTS, IT IS DIRECTED TO THE SEA OF SOULS, WHERE IT STAYS FOR ETERNITY. BUT, BECAUSE OF THE UNUSUAL CIRCUMSTANCES IN WHICH YOUR SOUL HAS FOUND ITS WAY TO MY REALM, I WOULD LIKE TO OFFER YOU A DIFFERENT PATH: A POSITION IN MY RETINUE.

_ He takes a moment to process what he’s hearing. He doesn’t understand. “A, uh— a what?” _

YOU WILL BE MY REAPER,  _ she tells him. _ YOU WILL DELIVER SOULS TO ME THAT THREATEN THE BALANCE OF LIFE AND DEATH. LICHES, ASTRAL PLANE ESCAPEES— NECROMANCERS. 

_ A reaper. A Grim Reaper. She’s asking him to be a Grim Reaper. _

DO YOU ACCEPT?  _ she asks. _

_ And Kravitz, who was dead a few moments ago, who is still recovering from the jarring sequence of events he’s just undergone, who wants revenge, maybe, or perhaps just wants no one to experience the pain he was forced to endure, replies with, “I accept.” _

_ Instead of offering a handshake, the Raven Queen pulls out a scythe from seemingly nowhere and gently touches its blade against his shoulders, then finally on his head. A cloak of dark, sleek raven feathers rolls out from above him and fits itself around his neck. When he looks down to inspect it, he finds his bloodied, filthy clothes have been replaced with business attire. _

_ He picks up the hem of his cloak. Feels it. Rubs the feathers in between his fingers. He’s not sure if he deserves an elite position such as this— to be immortal solely because he was killed by a coward who sacrificed someone else to become like what Kravitz is now. He is a conductor, first and foremost, a musician whose passion is to play. A musician who hasn’t even left his hometown yet. A conductor with no orchestra. A failure, perhaps, but not a killer. An unsuccessful star, maybe, but not a reaper. A kid who can’t have souls in his hands. His red string of fate has been cut. Perhaps he should not have knotted it back together. _

_ He turns the feathers over in his hands, examining it. Maybe he won’t be cut out for this. Maybe he’ll change his mind and retire to the Sea after a while.  _

_ Maybe— _

_ “Kravitz.” _

_ He freezes. He looks around, searching the room, but all that’s there is darkness, and— and the Raven Queen, who appears to be paralyzed in time. _

_ “Kravitz.” _

_ The voice is so familiar. He’s heard it before. If his mind wasn’t such a mess, he might be able to figure it out. _

_ “I—” _

_ The tile underneath him blinks in and out of existence. He grasps at the floor, desperately trying to hold on to what is no longer there. His hands phase through it. He glances back up at the Raven Queen. She slinks back into the darkness. _

_ “I’m sorry!” _

_ And the voice is all around him now, echoing off the walls of the void he sits in, alone in the dark except for the comfort of her words. It’s muffled. It sounds like she’s trying to shout through water. Still, he knows who she is— he does, he does, he just has to catch up— and his heart is warmed when she apologizes, but he instinctively knows that whatever it is she’s apologizing for, he’s sorry, too.  _

_ He squeezes his eyes shut, flipping through the next hundreds of years of memory. This is— this is— this is someone he trusts, someone he grew to love, someone— someone—  _

_ “I need you!” _

_ Her words strike him down and stir something inside of him. _

_ This is his best friend. _

_ This is Lup. _

_ Lup needs him.  _

_ He stands. The ceiling of the void breaks open, light spilling in, bathing him in it. He hears a cracking noise from beside him and watches as black water rushes in, pools at his feet and at his ankles and his knees and then envelopes him entirely, envelopes the space around him, and he swims. He swims up, towards the ceiling, towards the light, towards the exit. He swims towards Lup. _

In the depths of the Sea of Souls, Kravitz’s eyes shoot open.

In the depths of the Sea of Souls, Kravitz uses the last of his strength to summon a scythe, slicing at the beast holding him hostage.

In the depths of the Sea of Souls, he swims up. Towards the surface. Towards the light. Towards Lup.

-

When she finally gathers the courage to open the door, she’s greeted by an audience shrouded by darkness and alternating neon lights lining a long catwalk, begging her to take a spin.

“Oh, this is deffo a trap and we really shouldn’t fall for it,” she says. “I’m going first.”

Magnus, who has just finished sprinting up behind her with the others, interjects with, “Aw, man, I wanna go first!”

“It’s too late, Mags.” She begins drifting towards the stage. “You snooze, you lose.”

“Aw, man, come on!”   


“Already gone,” she whispers. “I’ll see you in… another… life…”   


The moment her heel touches the surface of the runway, she casts Prestidigitation to create the illusion that she’s no longer in torn, bloody office clothes, but instead in a mess of tulle and lace, in all things gold and shiny and eye-catching, a high-low evening gown fit for a fashion show. There are bracelets on her wrists and jewels in her ears and sparkling high-heels on her feet, the spotlights catching every aspect of her outfit and reflecting it to the outside audience. Lup has never been anything if not an expert in the art of false extravagance. Besides, she loves all things that shine and glitter.

She struts and poes and shows off every accessory and angle she can. She knows this is fake, but God, it feels good. 

After some arguing, Taako comes next, casting a litany of spells to enhance his walk down the runway, including dressing himself in the illusion of a rather fancy suit adorned with quite the elaborate, intricate pattern. He, too, has chosen to wear some flashy bracelets and piercings and tacky accessories. He and Lup both love gaudiness. 

Merle is next, seductively running a single fingertip down his hairy legs and slightly lifting the pant leg of his cargo shorts. As he walks further, he slowly licks his lips and pulls one sleeve of his Hawaiian shirt off his shoulder, and, once he reaches the end of the catwalk, he begins to gyrate. Three mannequins clap unenthusiastically. The rest remain silent.

Magnus steps onto the stage last. What he can’t do in magic cosmetics he makes up for in talent, twisting his Chance Lance like a baton as he makes his way down the catwalk. With a few sick tricks, the mannequin audience starts to clap and cheer again. No matter that his final Chance Lance stunt ends with him bonking himself on the head— it’s still a relative success. 

Edward’s voice sounds from a place she can’t see. “You did it! I don’t know how, but you did it!”   
Lydia follows with, “Very few people have stood where you’re standing now, having conquered suffering itself to claim their prize. Give them a hand, folks!”

The mannequins all stand and applaud in unison. Sucks that she can’t enjoy some praise here. The audience gives her the creeps.

“This resolve,” Edward continues, “this desire to do whatever it takes no matter the cost to save yourselves… You remind me of us.”

“Grossarooni,” Taako mutters.

“I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Lup adds.

They ignore them. Lydia tells them, “There were three of us once. We had a younger brother— Keats. Just us, surviving together… but Keats got sick and he wouldn’t get better. We tried necromancy in order to save him.”   


“It didn’t work,” says Edward, “but we found a new joy in our powers. To sustain them, we used our love for Keats, and then…” He falters. “It stopped being enough. We soon found that suffering is much, much more effective than love.”

“And so we extract suffering from the greedy,” she continues. “More of a good deed on our part, really. Wonderland was the perfect way to get what we needed and because of your Animus Bell, business has been booming.”

“Of course, we rely on advertising,” he adds. “Billboards, pamphlets, anything to get participants rolling in. But do you know what the most successful type of advertising is?”

The four of them look at one another. They say, “Word of mouth?”   


Edward’s voice echoes throughout the dark and empty room once again. “Magnus, you landed on Skull in the last round, didn’t you?”

He draws his brow. “Yes.”

There’s a pause, and then: “Bad luck.”   


She hears the distant toll of a bell. Magnus straightens, then leans back, a light emitting from his spine for the briefest of seconds before he spasms and catches himself from falling hard on the runway tile. He once again straightens his posture, then turns towards them and says, “You know, gang, I don’t think Wonderland’s that bad.”   
Except it isn’t Magnus. This is a parody of Magnus. His smile is too straight, too rehearsed, and his eyes are too wide, his pupils too small, his stature too proper. She has spent a century with Magnus— the real Magnus, the Magnus whose grin is full and crooked, whose broad shoulders are always slumped in perpetual poor posture, whose unadulterated joy and optimism shines through in every movement he makes. Something is wrong here.

He struts farther towards them, twisting the handle of Railsplitter. Lup readies her magic.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna head down to Neverwinter and tell them all to get down here ASAP! More loot than I could carry out.”   


Merle takes a step backward. “And… what about us?”   


“Oh, see, I’ve got a better idea here,” Not-Magnus tells him. “You three are gonna go back in there and have some more fun while I leave with the Bell. I mean, you can’t get out of Wonderland, but you get to live! Sounds great, huh?”   


Taako cocks his head and Lup can tell by the look on his face that he’s up to something. “Hey,” he says, “I got a fuckin’ idea for ya’.”

And then his eyes roll into the back of his head and Taako, shock-still, crumples to the ground.

She almost screams until she sees a jar roll out of his bag. In it is a bright light she’s seen before. A soul. 

“Cool,” she says. “Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. Hey, fuckface?”

Not-Magnus shifts his gaze towards her.

Lup extends a palm. In it, she channels as much strength as she can, as much magical energy as possible to do what she couldn’t do before. A handle flickers in her hand as her fingers twitch, trying to grasp the intangible, to hold onto something lost. Meanwhile, she feels the newly familiar sensation of her skin melting, dripping onto the tile below like candle wax, exposing the bleached bone underneath. The false flesh and muscle she was wearing before runs down her skeletal remains, vanishing before it can reach the ground. She’s going to be able to do it, she thinks, as the scythe’s handle begins to solidify. She’s going to take her reaper form.

Except suddenly her magic fizzles out, leaving only sparks in place of a scythe and a body that’s one half elf and one half skeleton.   


“Well,” she says, sucking in a breath through her teeth. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”   


Magnus swipes at her. Or— 

Edward swipes at her.

It’s faint— just the ghost of Edward’s form, the vague shape of his grinning face hovering besides Magnus’s, flickering in and out of sight— but it’s there. That’s not Magnus. That’s their tormentor.

Lup sticks out her foot and sweeps his legs. He tumbles to the ground, groaning.

“Sorry, Real Maggie,” Lup whispers, hoping he can hear.

She walks over him, putting extra stomp into her step as she does so, really digging her heel into his back. He grunts. And Lup, her vision wavering between what’s real and what’s hidden, notices what’s right in front of her.

Magnus’s spirit has left his body, floating towards the ceiling and away from the fight. He’s shouting, flailing in the air. Lup doesn’t know how tangible spirits are in her current form, but she does know that she has to save him. She follows the path to which he’s being pulled and sees—

She sees— 

A rift.

A swirling portal of color and light, this time with a window into the dimension it leads to.

And she sees Kravitz.

The rift shows the Sea, angry and violent, crashing against the walls of the portal, some water spilling over the edge with each wave. The sky above it is no longer shock white, but jet black. In the water is her best friend, struggling to stay above, to fight the apparent monster that has taken hold of him, that has tied itself around his wrists and which keeps trying to tug him beneath the surface. There are chunks of a tar-like substance stuck in his hair, staining his clothes, sliding down his skin. She would know it anywhere.

The Hunger has reached the Astral Plane.

More importantly, the Hunger has reached Kravitz.

She looks at Taako’s spirit, which is still standing just above his unconscious body. He looks at her.

They nod.

Taako leaps towards Magnus.

Lup follows, bounding across the stage. From behind her, Merle yelps. She looks over her shoulder to see Edward-Magnus swinging at him, his punches missing by centimeters as Merle backs away. 

Lup readies a spell, feeling the magic pool in the palm of her hands and the heat begin to rise.

And then she feels a hand on her shoulder.

Lydia gently turns her to the side, lightly dragging her finger along the length of her arm before gripping her wrist. Lup tries to yank it out of her grasp, but her hold stays firm.

“Lup,” she says, her voice low, “our offer still stands.”

She furrows her brow, leaning back. “What?”

“We promised you a reward upon winning.” Lydia tilts her head at an impossible angle. “Your heart’s desire, remember?”

Flashes of Wonderland replay themselves in her brain. The sinister looks in Lydia and Edward’s eyes when she was forced to watch her family make sacrifices they couldn’t take back. The deliberate conversations in static. The billboard.

As if to confirm, she leans forward and whispers it in Lup’s ear: “The second Voidfish’s ichor.”

Lup tenses.

She smiles, just inches away from Lup’s face. “Twelve years on your own is a long time. Must have been difficult. More difficult when you discovered your family had lost their memory. The love of your life pulls a disappearing act, your friends can’t tell who you are, and your twin brother— Oh, your twin brother. I can’t begin to imagine what it’d be like if Edward forgot me. Why, I’d do anything to get him back.”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” she hisses. 

“Oh, don’t forget that I lost a brother, too,” she tells her, still gentle, but there’s a hint of warning in her tone. 

She clamps her mouth shut.

“Taako has been through a lot without you,” she continues. “They all have, but Taako has this deep, awful pain he can’t identify. He tried to fill the void with applause, with praise, with riches, but nothing worked. Nothing could replace you, Lup. You were his heart. He’d forgotten his  _ heart.” _

“Stop,” she spits, but she knows it’s true.

“You could take that pain away,” Lydia tells her, her voice just above a whisper. “You could take all their pain away. Yours, too.”   


Lup tries once again to jerk away from her, but Lydia’s grip doesn’t waver. “I don’t need your fucking help.”

She laughs, shrill and humorless. “Is that so? Because the Hunger keeps creeping closer and you  _ still  _ haven’t found a way to heal them.”

She stays silent.

“That’s what I thought,” Lydia says. “Listen, I know you don’t want the Bell. You think Lucretia’s plan is a bad idea. You never wanted to enact it. You’re only allowing it to happen because you think you’ve run out of choices, but I want to offer you another one: You leave the Bell with us, you heal your merry band of misfits, and you  _ stop her. _ You still have time to rescatter the relics. You can live out your lives in bliss.”

“People will still get killed.”

“Jesus, Lup, everyone dies. It doesn’t matter whether it’s by old age or by a relic. What I’m offering is much more valuable than the lives of everyone in this miserable world combined and you  _ know  _ it.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “What do I need to do?”

Lydia’s grin widens, toothy and too big to be humanly possible— but Lup supposes she isn’t human. “I’m glad you asked. All you need to do is quit fighting, administer the ichor, and leave us alone.”   


“And Kravitz?”

“He’ll be fine, silly. The Astral Plane will return to normal once you’ve successfully fooled the Hunger again.” She cocks her head. “Do we have a deal?”

Lydia lifts her hand. Black wisps of smoke rise from it to reveal a single vial full of a dark, swirling liquid.

The Voidfish’s ichor.

And Lup, fingers trembling, reaches out.

It’s so close. Everything she’s been longing for, everything she fought for— it’s right there in front of her.

She reaches out.

It’s not a bad exchange, really. They’re not ready to face the Hunger. Delaying the apocalypse is something they need right now.

She reaches out.

She can save them. She can have her family back. She can have Taako back.

Her fingertips brush against the glass.

And then she swipes it away, balls her hand into a fist, and grabs Lydia by the collar.

Leaning in, she whispers, “Eat shit and die.”   


Lup casts Fireball right against her stomach and sends her flying.

While Lydia is on the ground, Lup makes her way across to where Magnus is being pulled. Taako is desperately trying to grab his hand. Lup is about to step in, but then—

Then Merle calls out for help.

She swivels her head toward where he lay underneath the foot of Edward-Magnus, his hands and legs pinned by the surrounding mannequins. He can’t move, and Edward— Edward has a smile on his face and an axe in his hands.

_ No. _

She glances back towards Magnus and Taako, the gap between them widening, at Kravitz, drowning in a dark and endless sea, and back at Merle, seconds away from being seriously hurt. She feels as if she’s being tugged in different directions and she has no idea where to go.

And then she feels a cold hand slip into her own, giving her palm a gentle squeeze.

A funnel of smog descends from the ceiling and begins to take shape right above Edward’s head, unbeknownst to him. It shifts from a table to a guitar to a dresser before finally settling on an anvil, dropping it right on Edward’s skull. He glances up at the last second and attempts to duck, but it still lands hard on his shoulder. He’s forced to let Merle go while he tries to alleviate the pain.

“Thanks, babe,” she mutters under her breath. 

Lup bounds towards Taako, who is levitating towards Magnus, and takes hold of his foot. He looks back at her.

She tightens her grip around his ankle. “Hold on.”

She leaps from the platform and casts Levitate on herself, floating up towards the center of the room and feeling the pull of the rift, trailing behind Taako, who is just inches from Magnus. In the same moment, she points a finger behind her and casts Aganazzer’s Scorcher.

The fire hits the ground and propels the both of them farther, closing the gap between Taako and Magnus, but it also brings them closer to the portal. He’s now just a few feet away, threatening to cross into the hell that the Hunger has wrought upon the Astral Plane, and Lup— Lup doesn’t know what to do.

If they cross into the Astral Plane, there won’t be much they can do besides struggle to keep above the surface. Forget helping Kravitz, making sure Merle doesn’t die, seeing her boyfriend and introducing a long lost friend to the rest of the crew— she’ll be gone before she hits the water. The Hunger is relentless in its destruction. It kills and maims without thinking twice because it’s in pursuit of something bigger, of something larger than any life or any god or any planar system: The Light of Creation. If three of the seven people who have been inhibiting it from that goal end up in its clutches… 

This is bad.

She has to figure out a way to fix this, to both save Kravitz and themselves, but the options are scarce. She can crawl over the two of them, but by the time she does, it’ll be too late. She could propel them backwards, but Kravitz will still be stuck. Even if she did manage to save Kravitz and keep hold of Magnus, she doesn’t know how they’re going to get back to the platform, and— 

And then—

And then she feels rough bark against her ankle.

Lup glances back to see the spirit of Merle’s soulwood arm stretching dozens of feet across the room, his fingers closed around her leg. Edward is still trying to get to him, still trying to send mannequins his way, but he ignores him in favor of concentrating on his spell. After all, he’s got Barry to protect him. 

Taako uses his free hand to reach over and grasp one of Merle’s fingers. He looks at her, brow furrowed, more serious than she’s seen him in a while. 

He doesn’t have to say what he needs her to do. Lup already knows.

She wriggles out of Merle’s grip and crawls over Taako and Magnus, careful not to hurt them nor to slip away. Once she’s successfully maneuvered herself onto Magnus’s back, she wriggles over to bend down next to his face. Not the most comfortable position for either of them, but at least he can hear what she has to say.   


“Okay, Mags,” she tells him, “I’m gonna need you to hold onto my foot.”

He twists his head just slightly. “Why?”

Lup pats him on the shoulder. “Gotta pull my best friend out of ghost jail.”

She squirms around until she’s able to offer up her foot to him, which he grabs. With no further thought, Lup leaps off.

The pull of the rift is much stronger up close. She feels as if the hairs on her head are being ripped from her, as if the skin on her face has grown loose and malleable and paper-thin, as if the hand she’s struggling to stretch towards Kravitz will be torn from her at any second. Still, she perseveres. This is Kravitz. This is her best friend. She’s not going to let him fall victim to an apocalypse she helped bring about.

She stretches, and her hand is inches away from the rift. She stretches, and her fingertips skim the surface. She stretches, and the palm of her hand presses through the portal’s entrance and into the Astral Plane.

She silently begs Kravitz to take hold.   
-

Kravitz thrashes beneath the surface of an oil-slicked ocean. Or, at least, it feels like an oil slick— he’s not exactly sure what the heavy dark gunk sitting atop the surface is, nor the pitch black goo floating within. Whatever it is, he’s sure it’s connected to the Sea’s uncharacteristically choppy waters and dark, dark void of a sky. 

He struggles to resurface, just barely poking his chin out from underneath the waves before being tugged in again by an entity he knows nothing about. Once again, he swings the scythe in its direction, freeing himself from its lonely, desperate grip. It’s gotten stronger, he thinks. The longer he stays, the stronger it will get.

He’s not sure what “it” is , exactly. But he knows that he has to escape it.

Above him, a rift forms, swirling with color and light and all the things he’s missed. He reaches for it, but is tugged beneath the surface once again.

Kravitz kicks and squirms and slices at the tether on his ankle. It releases him and he floats back up. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.

He screams, choking out the water still in his lungs.  _ Help! Help! Help! _ It comes out a gurgled cry.

A hand pokes through the barrier, stretching towards him. He swims as hard as he can, desperately grasping at the air above him, trying, trying, trying to grab on. His fingertips touch theirs. He is pulled below the water.

Kick, squirm, slice. Kick, squirm, slice. Kick, squirm— 

He is freed again. Kravitz gasps for air he doesn’t need and again tries to reach towards the hand trying to save him. Between the physical similarities inherent to being twins and the water splashing in his eyes, he can’t tell if it’s Taako or Lup. He hopes for either. He hopes for both. He needs them.

He is pulled beneath the surface. Kick, squirm, slice, kick squirm, slice, kick, squirm—

He pops up once more, this time with his hand already outstretched. His fingertips skim against their palm. He grasps their wrist, but his hold is weak and his hands are slippery. He tries again, this time with as much strength as he can muster, and—

And he grasps the outstretched hand.

His heart swells. Finally he can be free of this hell, finally he can inquire about what’s going on, finally he can tell someone about the Astral Plane, finally, finally, finally—

He feels slime wrap around his leg and tug him downward with enough force to rip him away. He yelps, his arm still sticking out above the surface, and he struggles, he kicks and he squirms and he tries to slice with his free hand, but nothing works, nothing works, and his ticket to freedom is gone. He had one chance. He had one chance and now he’s stuck here for God knows how long without anyone by his side, forced to relive his memories over and over and over again in a dreamlike state. Immortality comes with a price. He’s known that for a long, long time. Immortals also must die. He knows this, too, but he didn’t think he’d have to confront it. Not now, anyway. Not here.

He is dragged deeper within the water, only his fingertips remaining above the surface. He’s already feeling the urge to give up. This is the end. Again. He was a fool for thinking there’d be a happy ending to this. A fool for thinking he was somehow special when the rest of his coworkers are drowned beneath an unforgiving sea. When a  _ goddess  _ is lost to this unknowable force at work.

Fuck it.

He closes his eyes once again, inviting the peace of eternal slumber.

And then he feels fingers close around his. 

He feels a tug that possesses the kind of strength that could only arise out of desperation. He is pulled out of water and back above the waves. When he looks up, a half-skeletal Lup is staring at him, frantic and wide-eyed, swaying as if she’ll fall over if her balance shifts too suddenly. He feels tears stinging at his eyes. Later, he’ll blame it on sea salt to save him from the embarrassment of her teasing, but he knows the real reason why he’s close to crying.

Using his other hand, he places a firm grip onto her forearm. She rears back with all her strength. The grasp on his ankle stays.

She pulls. It pulls back.

She pulls. It pulls back.

She pulls.   


Nothing is a match for Lup in any contest, not even the otherworldly being that has infiltrated the Astral Plane. 

It releases him. 

He goes flying through the rift.

-

Lup and Kravitz tumble out of the portal and fall unceremoniously onto the ground, still clinging to one another once they hit the floor. Lup, unfortunately, is no longer a lich and thus feels pain as sharply as she did when she was alive, but she ignores it. Kravitz is here. He’s finally, finally here. She hugs him as tightly as she can, hoping he doesn’t mind the one fleshy hand contrasted against the bone hand, and digs her head into his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” she tells him, her words rapid, nearing a sob. “I’m so sorry, Kravitz, I—”   


“You’re sorry?” he asks, incredulous. “No, no, Lup, I’m sorry—”   


“But I was such an asshole—”

“I was the asshole!”

“You don’t get to be the asshole!” she tells him with a wet laugh. “I’ve called it already!”

“Too late.”

She pulls away, just slightly, just enough to see his face, and asks, still talking much too fast, “Where were you? I tried calling and scrying and nothing worked, and my powers are all fucked up, and you were  _ drowning, _ and— What happened, Krav?”

“I don’t know!” he matches the speed of her tone, still smiling despite the subject matter. “I was trying to call you and then this thing came out of the Sea and took everyone and flooded the whole place and, Lup, oh my God, Lup, I can’t find the Raven Queen—”

“You can’t find the Raven Queen?”

“She’s gone! I went to find her and there was no one there!”

“She can’t be gone, though, right? Like, she’s not  _ gone, _ gone—”

“I don’t know! I don’t know. I was so scared, Lup, you don’t even know how much I needed you—”   


“I needed you, dingus! Those dudes are fucking liches!”

“What?”   


“Yeah! The folks running this place? Liches.”   


“I told you! I told you! I told you you were gonna need those reaper skills!”

“I didn’t think there’d be liches!”

“Always be prepared! Always! Number one rule!”   


“I thought the number one rule was no necromancy.”   


“That too! You always need your reaper skills and—” He pauses suddenly, as if a thought has just struck him. “Oh. Holy shit. You made a portal.”

“I did! I did make a portal! Oh my God! I portalled!”

“You portalled!”   


“I portalled!”   


“How did you do that? How? It took me _ five years _ to make anything like a portal and you just do it in five seconds!”   


“I don’t know! I’m an incredible person!”

“I’m so  _ proud  _ of you!”

She squeals and brings him back in for a hug. “I love you so much, dude!”   


He squeezes in return. “Yeah, you’re okay, I guess.”   


Lup smacks him lightly on his back. “Shut up. You’ve got Sea of Souls goop in your hair.”

She feels him smile into her shoulder and takes comfort in his joy, in his presence, in his embrace. 

She holds him tighter and promises, low and quiet and without an ounce of dishonesty, “I’m never leaving you. Never again.” 

He chuckles. “I missed you too much to let you.”   


They stay like that for a moment until their ears are subjected to the grating noise of Lydia’s voice. “I hate to interrupt such a beautiful reunion,” she says, sauntering towards the two of them, “but, wow, such bad timing.”

Lup clenches her jaw.

Kravitz, glancing between the two of them, asks, “What do you mean?”

She tilts her head and grins too wide and too cruelly. “Bad timing,” she replies, “for some  _ bad luck.” _

She gives a nonchalant wave of a hand and Kravitz is slammed hard against the far wall. His physical form vanishes, leaving only a bright ball of light.

She half-expects him to disappear like the souls they reap disappear— leaving through a small, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it portal to the Astral Plane. She prepares to summon all of her strength to make another rift so he doesn’t have to suffer in the Sea, but—

But nothing happens.

Nothing happens.

And it slowly dawns on her that the  _ reason  _ why nothing is happening is because they’re cut off from all their abilities as reapers. Meaning if they die, they can’t go back to the Astral Plane to recuperate. He’s stuck here. They both are.

The bright light that is Kravitz’s soul begins to float towards the ceiling, towards the smog, towards the suffering. He’s— 

He’s becoming a part of Wonderland.

Lydia, who she swears was just across the room, grips her chin with her fingers and turns her face towards her. With her cold, empty eyes and her cold, empty heart, she tells her in her cold, empty voice, “We’re doing you a favor. He was  _ never  _ going to let you keep your boyfriend.”

Lup, trembling, chokes out, “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” She tilts Lup’s head at an angle so quickly she thinks she’s going to break it, but she must decide against it. “You know how he is. So quick to judge. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten your argument.”

“It was a mistake,” she insists through her clamped teeth.

“No, I think that’s a lie.” She narrows her eyes, but her smile stays the same. “I don’t like it when people lie, Lup. Wonderland is about authenticity. About revealing your true self. People tend to only show that self when placed in a circumstance like the one you and your friends are in, and I really, really  _ hate  _ it when they try to suppress it. Admit it. You meant what you said.”

“I didn’t. I was angry.”

“And? Is anger not the truth?”

“I was just _ angry. _ I didn’t mean it.”   


“You’re telling me you didn’t mean it when you told him he was miserable and lonely?”   


“Yes.”   


“And you didn’t mean it when you said he was condescending?”   


“Yes!”   


“And you didn’t mean it when you told him he pushed you away because you were a lich?”   


_ “Yes!” _

Lydia takes a single finger and taps it against Lup’s nose. “Liar.”

She purses her lips.

She sighs and holds out one hand in front of her, pretending to check her nails. “Oh, well. If you want to think that, I don’t mind. But he said some pretty nasty things about you, too, Lup, and  _ I _ think he meant it.”

She takes a deep, shaky breath, but she remains quiet.

“Not talking, are we?” Lydia asks. “That’s fine. We’ll switch topics. How about the fact that he was going to turn your boyfriend over to the Eternal Stockade the moment you found him? How about the fact that he would betray you at a moment’s notice? How about the fact that he has never liked you? How he’s only ever tolerated you? How you followed him around like a lost duckling because you were afraid of being alone again?”   


“Shut up.”

“Or how he let you follow him around like that because you were the first coworker who was willing to speak to him for more than five minutes? Or how he  _ thinks  _ this is what friendship is because he’s never had a normal one before? How he only tolerates you still because he believes he has to?”   


“Shut up.”   


“Or how about his vendetta against necromancers? How the last time he saw a lich as powerful as you, he took a scythe to her back and sent her to the Astral Plane the minute she got her freedom?”   


_ “Shut up!” _ _   
_

“A favor, Lup. This is a favor. You should be thanking us.”

“For _ what?” _

Lydia glances up, just for a second, at something Lup can’t see. She tries to follow her eyes, but Lydia holds her chin in place. “Lup, you’re a smart cookie. Self-taught wizard with a thousand spells under her belt. Member of the prestigious IPRE. Necromancer  _ and  _ evocationist.”

“What’s your point?”

She smiles at her like a cat about to pounce. “I’m sure you remember how Wonderland sustains itself. I’m sure you figured it out long before we told you.”   
Lup draws her brow, confused. “Suffering?”   


Lydia releases her face and gestures towards the ceiling. She spots Kravitz’s soul near the top, bright and beautiful against the swirling darkness he’s headed towards. He’s only inches away from joining the smog.

“Do you know,” Lydia asks, “how much concentrated suffering is in a human soul?”

Realization grips her entire body, paralyzing her, making the breath catch in her throat.    


They’re going to take Kravitz.   


They’re going to take her best friend.

And they’re going to  _ pull him apart. _

She tries to scream for help, but no sound comes out. It’s been dragged to the same pit in her stomach where her heart lies. In lieu of a voice to yell with, she turns towards Lydia, her hands already outstretched, ready to fight, ready to burn, ready to get her best friend back, and—

And then she can’t move.

She tries to speak, but her lips stay curled in a scowl. She tries to rear her arm back, but it remains frozen in an almost-fist. She tries to move her legs, but they stay in a sloppy battle stance. She tries to do anything— to yell, to kick, to weasel her way out of whatever the fuck is happening, but nothing works. She’s stuck.

“Hold Person,” Lydia tells her. “Very handy spell. Here. I want you to see this next part.”

She turns her so she’s facing Kravitz’s rising soul, forced to watch the awful sequence of events she’s prepared for her.

The bright orb of light that is Kravitz finally finishes its journey to the ceiling. The smog envelopes him almost the same moment he makes contact with it, like buzzards to a corpse, surrounding him, choking him, and Lup wants nothing more than to make promises she can’t keep, to cry out,  _ I’ll save you! I’ll do something! Anything! _ but her throat has closed around her voice. His light shines through the wisps of dark smog overtaking him, and for a moment Lup thinks he’s going to be okay. That he’s fighting. That he’s going to beat Lydia and Edward at their own game because he’s  _ Kravitz  _ and he’s  _ strong  _ and he’s  _ clever  _ and he’s  _ good, _ so good it’s unbelievable, so good that he must be repelling the smog, must be winning, must be okay, because how can someone as good as Kravitz be consumed by something so terrible?

Lup is wrong. The smog quickly snuffs out his light like it was never there in the first place. 

He’s gone.

Kravitz is gone.

The spell wears off and Lup collapses to the ground, choking out a sob that’d been building in her throat. It can’t be real. It has to be a trick. Kravitz is old and powerful and he can’t be gone, it’s not right, it’s not fair, it’s impossible, but—

But he is.

She cries out for him. He doesn’t respond.

Lydia leans down to wipe a tear away from her face. Lup swipes her hand away.

“Oh,” says Lydia, “you don’t have to be so sad about this, Lup. I mean, those hundreds of years of suffering all packed in there— not a bad perk for us, really, but this was more a gift for you. If you ask me…” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “I think you’re just being  _ greedy.” _

And Lup tenses her shoulders.

And Lup balls her fists.

And Lup feels something inside of her snap.

She swivels her head towards Lydia, feeling the fire burning in her heart, in her veins, in her eyes. For a moment, she almost looks afraid. 

Lup has fought the apocalypse a hundred times and won. Lup has stared death in the eyes more than once and made it bend to her will. Lup is part-reaper and part-lich and part-wizard and part-scientist and part-dead and part-alive and she is everything all at once, and she is angry and she is devastated and she is guilty and she is everything all at once, and she is the magic that is swirling inside of her and she is the power that is devouring her and she is the rage boiling in her stomach and she is everything all at once.

They are going to feel everything all at once.

Lup used to think her propensity for destruction was a curse— that the all-consuming flame she always had inside of her was a flaw.

She knows better now.

Lup trembles as she builds up the power coursing through her veins, redirecting it towards the palms of her hands, one skeletal and one flesh. Her voice shakes as her body does, not from fear, but from the fury fueling her strength. 

“You hurt my brother,” she says, feeling as though all the air has been sucked out of the room, as though her voice is echoing off the nonexistent walls, as if she is something greater than a couple of liches who were dumb enough to underestimate her. And she is. She’s something greater than them, than the relics, than the Hunger itself. She’s Lup.

Lydia backs away. Lup advances forward. 

“You hurt my family,” she tells her, and she is the force to be reckoned with. Not the suffering, not Wonderland, not the impending doom of this world or the death of the gods or the fucking umbrella. She is something grander than all of them. She is a woman to be revered, to be feared, not a plaything for some wannabe liches to torment. How dare they take her family, her friends, and expect there to be no consequences. They’re fools for ever thinking they could have the upper hand. 

“You hurt my best friend,” Lup says, finally close enough to look her deep into the eyes, to see the glow of her empty eye socket illuminating Lydia’s skin, to see the fear on her face that she doesn’t even bother to mask. She grabs her by the collar as hard as she can, staring into her empty, empty soul. 

Lup takes a single fist and raises it. “I’m going to fucking kill you now.”

And she casts Fire Storm.

Except she doesn’t aim for Lydia.

Instead, she extends a hand and points towards Edward.

It’s difficult, really, to watch Magnus’s expression contort in disbelief and shock before being engulfed by flame. In another circumstance, this would be her worst fear. But she has to remind herself that behind the exterior of one of her best friends in the universe, of someone she considers family, is a coward that kicked him out of his own body. 

Now she’s going to force him out.

She watches as he squirms beneath the raging fire. He barely has time to scream before Magnus’s body slumps to the ground, lifeless, and up rises Edward.

Lup doesn’t relent. She clenches her fists tighter, willing the fire to grow hotter, larger, to burn until there’s nothing left of him. And it does— the flame spreads, morphing into a bright blue. Edward writhes beneath the heat, beneath the pain, and then there’s silence. Just the roaring of fire and the sound of Lydia choking on her own words.

Lup, at last, wills the fire away. When it finally recedes, the only thing left is dust.

Lydia releases a heavy sob and dashes towards the spot where Edward once was, kneeling next to the ash. With trembling fingers, she reaches down to touch it. It falls from her hands like sand in an hourglass. 

And Lydia, her entire body shaking, looks up at Lup.

Lup drops her hands to her side, the fury draining out of her and quickly being replaced with guilt. 

Lydia is a woman who cherishes her brother more than anything. She was willing to give up her soul, to risk becoming pure magic and confusion and anger, just for a chance to let her brother live and it didn’t work. That left her and Edward alone— two twins with nowhere to go and no one who loved them except one another. She just killed the last person in the world who understood her. She just killed Lydia’s only remaining loved one, her only remaining companion, her only friend. She just killed the person who would follow her to the ends of the planet and back again. She just killed the one person Lydia couldn’t live without.

She killed someone else’s Taako.

Lydia cradles a handful of ash close to her.

And then she raises a finger. 

She points it right at Lup.

And she screams.

A blood curdling shriek envelopes the entire room, shaking it, making Lup feel as if her eardrums are about to burst. The force of it causes her to stumble backwards, nearly falling over herself. It carries with it a myriad of emotions, heavy and awful and so, so painful. Lup has never heard so much grief conveyed through a single noise. 

Black electricity springs from her, whipping across the floor as Lydia begins to lose her shape. The form she’s in flickers in and out of view, blurring and fading like she’s walking into fog. The intricate dress she was wearing before disappears, instead leaving her kneeling in plain, black robes. She’s losing herself. Or maybe she’s already gone.

The bolts of black electricity spread across the room and crawl up the ceiling as wind picks up around Lydia, swirling around her, becoming a storm of ash and smog. Lup stands her ground against the oncoming tornado, holding her hands in front of her face as if to force it away, but it’s over in a few moments. When the roar of the wind quiets and the storm finally settles, there’s no Lydia. Only two piles of ashes and a bell resting neatly between them.

She looks up. The smog is gone.

“Kravitz!” Lup shouts, desperately hoping for him to be okay, to be safe, to be here. “Kravitz!”

A few moments pass. Nothing.

“Kravitz?” she shouts again. And no, no, this can’t be happening, he’s supposed to be fine, they’re gone, Lydia and Edward are gone, and—

_ “Kravitz!”  _

No response.

Lup feels a sob forming in her throat. No. No, no, no, no. He’s gone and it’s all her fault. He’s gone and suffering in god knows where and it’s because of her. Why didn’t she fight harder? Why did she let Lydia cast a spell on her so easily? Why didn’t she resist? Why, why, why—?   


She feels a gentle nudge at her back.

Lup turns around to be greeted by a little orb of light, this time with a dark spot on its side.

_ “Kravitz,” _ she breathes, wrapping her arms around him as her skin crawls across the bare half of her skull. “Thank fuck.”

From above her, Merle clears his throat. 

Lup glances up. “Oh,” she says, letting him go, “oh, yeah, uh— do your thing, man.”

He nods, seemingly pleased, and places his hands on either side of Kravitz’s soul. He mutters something she can’t quite hear. His palms glow a bright green as the ghost of an outline shifts around the orb of light before finally, finally solidifying into Kravitz’s physical form.

Before he even has the opportunity to speak, Lup grabs him by the shoulder, turns him around, and squeezes him into a hug. 

He pats her on the back with the hand that she hasn’t trapped. “Haha,” he wheezes. “You’d miss me if I died.”

“Shut up, dingus,” she tells him, giving him one more squeeze before letting him go. She glances up at his face, but her gaze is soon locked there once she notices something new. “Uh.”   


He draws his brow. “What?”   


“Your, um…” She tilts her head. “One of your locs is kinda white now, buddy.”

_ “What?” _ he tugs on the loc closest to his face and pulls it in front of his eyes to examine it. It is, indeed, shock white, contrasting against the jet black of the rest of his hair. “Aw, shit. I really hope that’s not permanent.”

Lup sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Man, I have some bad news about Wonderland rules for you.”

From behind her, she hears a familiar voice. “Okay, you’ve hogged him enough. Outta my way.”

Taako shoves her— not gently, either— out of his path. Before she can gripe about it, he’s already pulling Kravitz into a kiss.

Kravitz reciprocates, leaning in, pressing his hand against Taako’s cheek. When he pulls away, he says, “Sorry I’m cold. Part of the whole ‘dead’ thing.”

Taako smiles at him. “It’s all good, old man.”

“I didn’t age, Taako, I just have a little bit of white hair.”

“You’re a total GILF now.”   


“I didn’t age!”

Taako reaches up to grasp the section of newly-white hair. “Gotta say, I’m really liking the whole silver fox thing you’ve got going on.”

Kravitz sighs. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”

“You know me so well,” he tells him, pulling him back in for another kiss.

From behind her, Lup hears the sound of Magnus clearing his throat. She swivels around, only to be met by a wooden mannequin.

“Uh,” she stammers. “What the fuck?”

_ “Somebody,”  _ Magnus says, “forgot that it was  _ my fucking body _ they were filetting a lich out of.”

Lup pats his wooden bicep. “Listen, Mags, I’m sorry about that. Here, where is it? We can get Merle to heal it and you can jump right back in. No prob.”

He points at the runway. All that’s left is ash.

She purses her lips, awkwardly rocking back and forth on her feet. “Oh.”

“Yeah,  _ oh,” _ he grumbles. “Maybe next time you should, I don’t know, make sure I’m actually inside my own body before you anger a lich into destroying it.”

“I’m— I’m really sorry, Magnus.”

“Whatever.” He crosses his arms. “I’m gonna go get the Bell. Shouldn’t be a problem since I’m, you know, a mannequin.”

She watches him stumble towards the center of the room, clearly unused to being in this new body. Lup feels guilt settling in her stomach. She really, really hopes Barry can find a way to make him a new body. Otherwise, they’re in a lot of trouble.

Magnus piles his belongings onto himself, most of which he has to adjust to fit his now thinner, flimsier frame. Technically, he has no face, but he still manages to convey how aggrieved he is by the way in which he moves, tightening his belts more aggressively than is warranted and slinging his axe over his shoulder with more force than necessary. He only makes an exception for Stephen, who he gently places back in his holder at his waist before returning to gathering his things in a huff.

After he’s finished, he trudges towards the Bell, stares at it for just a moment, and says, seemingly out of nowhere, “I’d hate it. Shut the fuck up.” before snatching it from it’s place between Lydia and Edward’s ashes. In moments, Wonderland falls.

Wind once again picks up, this time from where the Bell lay in Magnus’s hands, swirling throughout the room and taking with it the tent in which Wonderland resides. The floor peels away, revealing the dirt underneath, while the tile of the runway breaks and disintegrates into dust. The fabric of the walls rip and tear until finally she can see the hint of the outside beyond the heavy winds. When the storm settles at last, Wonderland is gone and they’re instead standing in a clearing within the Felicity Wilds, safe, despite everything.

The three travelers she saw earlier begin talking to Taako, Magnus, and Merle, all asking them what they did and how and  _ Was that guy there before? _ Lup doesn’t pay attention. She’s busy scanning the area for a familiar face.

Lydia is gone. Edward is gone. Wonderland is gone. So where’s Barry?

She feels the prickle of electricity in the air. Swiveling around, she sees a lich in a tattered red robe, floating not too far from where she stands.

_ Oh, _ she thinks. _ There he is. _

And then,  _ Oh.  _

_ There he is. _

There’s Barry, who she loves with all of her heart and more, who she hasn’t seen or held in over ten years. There’s Barry, who she has been missing all this time, who has occupied every facet of her heart and every thought passing through her brain since the moment she was trapped in the umbrella. There’s Barry, who she has spent the past decade trying to recall the gentle touch of, to recall the scent of ozone following him in his lich form juxtaposed with the aroma of fabric softener surrounding him in his human form, to recall the feel of his hand and the sound of his laugh and the warmth of his hugs, all so she could pretend as if he was there instead of separated from her while she rotted alone in a prison of her own making. There’s Barry, here and now. There’s Barry.

_ There he is. _

They run towards each other in what feels like slow motion, her feet unable to move fast enough towards him.  _ There he is. _

She outstretches her arms, ready to wrap him in her embrace and never let go.  _ There he is. _

He places his skeletal hands on her waist and swoops her off the ground, spinning her. She laughs, feeling lighter than air, and grasps him by the shoulders for support. He’s cold and her fingers go numb upon contact.  _ There he is! _

He stares at her from behind the darkness of his hood. Lup stares at him. Finally, she tugs down his hood, revealing the skull and shifting spirit around it lying inside. She grabs either side of his face and pulls him into a kiss. It’s staticky and numbing and distinctly inhuman. It’s Barry. It’s Barry, here, finally, after so, so many years. It’s Barry. It’s Barry. It’s Barry. How did she get so lucky? How did she end up with such an incredible person? How did she find her way back to him when her heart longed for him the most? How, how, how?

She doesn’t pull away for a long time. When they separate, she pulls him in for a hug instead. She’s never letting go. Not ever, ever again.

“I missed you,” she tells him, her voice cracking. 

“I missed you, too,” he replies, equally close to tears. “God, Lup, I— I looked everywhere for you. I spent years poring over maps and triangulating locations and putting up posters, and— and I was so afraid. Lup, I— I never went a minute without thinking of you.”

She reaches up to caress his face. “All I ever did was wonder where you were. I couldn’t do anything about it and it was so, so horrible, Barry. If I knew what was going to happen, I—” A sob escapes her throat. “I’m so sorry, Barry, I’m so, so sorry, I love you so much—”

“Hey.” He guides her head towards his shoulder. She wraps her arms around him in response. “What happened?”

“Oh, so much.” She laughs wetly. “I’ll explain. I promise. I— I just need to be here a little longer. With you.”

He rubs circles into her back while she revels in his company. “I almost lost it when I saw you.”

“Are you kidding me, babe? I felt you squeeze my hand and all I wanted to do was freak out.”

“I didn’t know how much you knew until then,” he tells her. “I was afraid you’d— you’d lost your memory or something, and then you answered those questions, and—”   


“I don’t think I’d be able to forget you even if I had my memory wiped,” she says. “Besides— of course I was going to answer questions about my dream man by describing you.”   


He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Lup leans into his touch. “It was so hard not revealing myself then and there. I just— I wanted you back. I spent so long without you and I wanted you back.”

“I did, too,” she replies. “It took everything in me not to blow your cover and scream about how my lich boyfriend who I hadn’t seen in over ten fuckin’ years was here.”

“Almost blew my own cover to yell at everyone that my lich girlfriend who I was looking for for over ten fuckin’ years was here.”   


She grins and raises her eyebrows, shifting her gaze to the side. “Well,” she says, “not a lich anymore, technically.”   


_ “What?” _   


“Yeah. Like I said, lots happened while I was out.”

“How can you not be a lich anymore?” he asks, incredulous. “Is that a thing?”

“I’ll give you the whole rundown, but, uh, long story short, I was inducted into a goddess’s employ that, coincidentally, hates liches, but I’m just too cool and amazing to pass up, apparently.” She shrugs. “No biggie.”

_ “Yes  _ biggie,” he says, a hint of laughter behind his voice.

“The reason I was even able to be here in the first place is actually because of my newest best friend,” she tells him. “He taught me everything about my job. And I taught him how to be extremely cool. Didn’t pick up much, though. Still a nerd.”

Barry grins, the ever-shifting ghost of his mouth stretching over the set of teeth in his skull. “And where is he?”

She smiles back in kind and gestures to where Kravitz is standing a few yards away. “Barry,” she says, “I’d like you to meet Kravitz.”

They stare at one another.

For the next couple minutes, they just stare at one another.

Taako, Magnus, and Merle are all dumbfounded, looking back and forth between one another with expressions that she can only interpret as _ What the fuck? _ but Kravitz just stares wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and wordless at Barry, who is just as stunned. 

At last, Kravitz breaks the silence.

Without taking his eyes off Barry, he shouts in utter disbelief, “Your boyfriend is the  _ Crimson Phantom?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ZOO WEE MAMA!!!!  
> i was so excited to publish this chapter!!!!!! fun fact: i originally planned not to have kravitz come back until near the end, but then changed it around the time i started the suffering game arc it because then kravitz would be gone for like,, half the lup-kravitz friendship fic. i think i like it much better this way anyway!!! rip my outline tho :(  
> anyways. BARRY'S BACK! KRAV IS BACK! EVERYONE'S BACK! SO MUCH HAPPENED!!!!! FUCK YEAHHH  
> also!!! how are y'all doing? hope you're good!!!! i've been playing so much among us,, i am SO bad at being imposter. it's too much pressure!!!! i simply cannot kill!!!!! everyone always gets done with chores or i get voted out before the end of the game bc i suck at lying :( i just want to do funky little tasks and call people sus!!!!! i did play with a bunch of tumblr users the other day tho so if any of u are reading this..... <3  
> thank you so much for reading!!!!! NEXT CHAPTER: u know how this was 12k words of plot? the next chapter will be 10k words of more in-depth reunions. it was meant to be 5k at the most. IT WAS MEANT TO BE 5K  
> tumblr: nillial


	17. Eye of the Storm

Following Kravitz’s revelation, there are a few brief moments of total silence.

And then Barry says, “You gave me a nickname?”

Lup interrupts with, “He’s the what?”

“The Crimson Phantom,” Kravitz repeats. “That’s the Crimson Phantom!”

Lup is about to retort back with some clever witticism along the lines of _Babe, why didn’t you tell me you were the Crimson Phantom?_ or _No, you’re mistaken, this is the Lavender Phantom,_ but she’s instead interrupted by Barry, who interjects with, “Your best friend is _this_ asshole?”

She swivels around to face him. “What do you mean ‘this asshole?’”

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no,” says Kravitz, jabbing a finger in his direction, “You’re the asshole here. I’m not the one who died about a million times and has been evading capture since.”

“Alright, hey, I’m minding my own business,” Barry shoots back. “You keep showing up out of nowhere and trying to kill me.”

“I’ve only seen you once!”

“Yeah, you’ve only seen _me_ once. I’ve seen _you_ plenty of times. Right before I get the hell out of dodge.”

“What? _What?_ Are you saying you’ve been right there the whole time?”

“Uh— fuckin’ yeah, bud, you think I don’t know how to use an invisibility spell? You think I don’t know how to use Teleport?”

Lup interrupts with, “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. Kravitz. This is the lich you were chasing? The one you made me hunt with you?”

Kravitz nods slowly.

She turns to Barry. “He’s been trying to kill you this whole time?”

Barry, too, nods slowly.

Lup clasps her hands together and smiles. “Oh. Oh, this is the best day of my life.”

_“Excuse_ me?” asks Kravitz.

“All of the stars that had to align for this to happen,” she rambles. “All of the different paths that had to unwind themselves. Barry. Kravitz. My boyfriend. My best friend. You were trying to kill each other and now I get to watch you have to tolerate one another.”

“I’m not going to get along with him!” Barry snaps.

“Who said I was going to tolerate him?” Kravitz argues in kind, talking over him.

“Well,” says Lup, “are you going to turn him in?”

Kravitz pouts, then folds his arms together and shifts his eyes from her gaze. “No,” he grumbles.

Just a short while ago, their meeting was her worst nightmare. But now, seeing the both of them together, she realizes something she should have realized a long time ago— Kravitz wasn’t going to reap Barry. It never mattered how powerful a lich he was, or how high a bounty he had, or how long Kravitz had been chasing him down. After a few weeks in each other’s company, any notion of betraying her had left his mind. Lup worried about it endlessly— how she was going to break the news, how he was going to react, whether they would remain friends or if she had just put her boyfriend in immense danger— but here they are. No one’s started running. No one’s attacking. Kravitz has just begrudgingly vowed not to turn Barry in.

Huh.

Lup pats Barry’s arm. “Barry. My dear. My love.”

He releases an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, Lup?”

“Can you try to get along with my good friend Kravitz?”

“I—”

“I know he has a penchant for murdering people. He murdered me!”

“He _what?”_ _  
_

“But we’ve moved past that and now our bond is stronger than ever.” She squeezes his hand. “Imagine the kind of friendship that could blossom from your intense mutual hatred for one another!”

“Lup.”

“Please, Barry?” She bats her eyelashes. “For me?”

For a moment, he only stares at her. Then he slumps his shoulders, looks to the sky, and grumbles, “Why do you have to be so fuckin’ cute?”

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a _‘fine,’”_ Barry corrects. “But he better not get all… scythe-y on me.”

“I _just_ said I wouldn’t turn you in,” Kravitz says.

“Yeah, well, excuse me,” he counters, “but every time I’ve seen you, you’ve tried to kill me.”

“Do you know how much money your bounty is?” Kravitz asks. “Do you know? Have you seen it? Do you know how much time I spent _hunting_ you? You are _so_ lucky you’re Lup’s boyfriend.”

Lup smiles at him. “Aw. You guys are going to be such great friends. I can already tell.”

The both of them glare at her, although Barry’s glare softens the moment his eyes meet her face. 

From behind her, Taako clears his throat.

Lup swivels around. He looks less than pleased.

“You told me you didn’t know the Red Robe,” he says, his arms folded, his brow furrowed.

“Uh, yeah,” she replies. “Still don’t.”

“Lup.” He gestures dramatically towards Barry. “That _is_ the Red Robe.”

She blinks, then returns her gaze to Barry. “How many nicknames do you _have?”_

He shrugs.

She then turns again to Taako. “Wait,” she says, “I thought you said the Red Robe was evil?”

He gives a pointed look in Barry’s direction. Lup turns to look at him, only to find him standing pin-straight with his hands taut at his sides.

I’m— I—” He stammers. “Okay. There’s a lot of stuff I need to explain—”

“Uh, yeah, no shit.” It’s Magnus who steps forward this time, his fists clenched, looking as angry as someone without a face can look. “Answers. Now.”

Lup says, “Hey, I’m sure—”

He cuts her off. “No. No, you owe me answers, too. Why are you teamed up with the Red Robe? Are you after the relics? How do you figure into the Bureau?”

She takes a deep breath. God, this is going to be rough. 

“I can tell you everything,” Lup says, “but not just yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because—”

“Because you ‘have’ to? Because you’re hiding something? Because apparently everyone involved in this shitty relic thing is keeping secrets from us?” 

“You have no idea how much I want to tell you—”

“So why don’t you?” he asks. “Why don’t you tell us what you want to tell us and cut the bullshit?”

“Because you won’t be able to understand,” she responds. “You know that.”

“You can avoid the static. At least try.”

“Not with something like this.”

He crosses his arms. “How am I supposed to trust you? How am I supposed to trust anything you’re doing?”

“I came here to help you out,” she says. 

“Sure,” he counters, “and now half the things you say are in static and you’re all chummy with the one person we’ve been told not to believe.”

“Who—?” She glances at Barry, then back at him. “What do you mean?”

“Uh, what do you mean?” Magnus jabs a wooden finger in Barry’s direction. “We’re not supposed to talk to the Red Robe under the orders of the Director.” 

Oh.

Lucretia told them—

_Oh._

Lup feels an ache crawl up to her heart and settle there.

She swallows thickly. “But here you are.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then, “I don’t— I don’t know who to believe.”

Lup purses her lips. Stuffs her hands into the pockets of her cloak. “Yeah. I get it.”

From beside her, Barry clears his throat. “Hey, uh, listen, Magnus, I know you want answers. You’re gonna get them. I promise you that. I just— I need you to follow me now because there are some things I can’t explain on my own. Okay?”

He drums his fingers on his forearm. It produces a dull, hollow thud. He shifts his head away from them. “Yeah. I don’t have anything to lose anymore, I guess.”

She feels a stab of guilt. She should have found a way to save Magnus’s body. Now he’ll have to fight the apocalypse in a vessel unfamiliar to him with memories he never knew he had.

Taako saunters up beside him. Now that he’s a mannequin, he and Magnus come up to the same height, allowing him to rest his elbow on his shoulder, which undoubtedly makes Magnus angrier. “It’s cool, Mags. If they fuck us over, we can just snitch on their whole ‘star-crossed lovers’ thing.”

“Please don’t,” she asks, perhaps too desperately.

Kravitz speaks up with, “No one’s gonna snitch.” He offers up a rather pointed glare. _“Taako.”_ _  
_

Taako shrugs, but he looks a little offended. “I’m not a snitch. I was just _saying.”_

Barry opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by the muffled sound of a child’s voice distorted by radio static. “Sirs? Sirs, are you there? You’ve been offline for a while, sirs, are— are you there?”

Beside her, Barry tenses. He reaches out a palm and presses the index finger of his free hand to his lips. 

All three of them look at one another. Taako is, surprisingly, the first to offer up his Stone, then Merle, then Magnus, who is shockingly less hesitant about handing over his Stone than she’d thought he’d be. It’s his desire for the truth, she thinks. His need for answers. His willingness to get them.

Barry squeezes his hand into a fist. There’s the sound of glass cracking. When he uncurls his fingers, all that’s left is a sparkling dust of rock and gemstone. 

A grin spreads across Taako’s face. “Hell yeah, goin’ rogue! Off the grid! I’ve been waiting for this the whole fuckin’ time!”

He reaches into one of his many cloak pockets and pulls out a stack of credit cards. Just as he’s about to break one in half, Lup holds a hand over his.

“What?” he asks. “Taako’s _always_ ready for this. I’m ready to go off the grid at any moment.”

“Maybe, uh, don’t shred those just yet,” she says, glancing down at the pile in his hands. Within it, she notices a ten dollar Fantasy JCPenney gift card. Lup deftly swipes it from him and stashes it away, much to his chagrin. “Look at that. You were gonna destroy a perfectly good JCPenney discount.”

“When you’re off the grid, you don’t _need_ JCPenney discounts!”

She eyes the pile of cards still in Taako’s grasp. “What you _need_ to do is stop applying for credit cards.”

“Please,” he says. “I’m a genius. Every time I max one out, I apply for another. Free money.”

“That’s not how money works, Taako.”

“What are they gonna do? Arrest me? I live on the fuckin’ moon.”

“What’s your credit score?”

“Who gives a shit? I _live_ on the _moon!”_

Lup leans towards Kravitz and whispers, “Don’t buy a house with him.”

“I _heard_ that!”

Just as Lup is about to retort with something undoubtedly clever, she hears the low rumbling of something close to thunder, but which is not thunder at all. When she glances up, she at last notices the deep dark of the sky and the heavy gray clouds within. The threat of a storm with no rain. Dread rises in her stomach. 

It’s coming.

“Listen, there’s not much time,” says Barry. “Night’s gonna fall soon and we need to make some headway before it does because… Well, tomorrow’s going to be…” He shifts his gaze from them to the sky above. “… fateful. And Lup?”

She shivers in the chill of the Hunger’s storm, the bitter breeze biting at her skin. She draws her cloak closer to her. “Yeah?”

“You’re gonna need to disguise Magnus. And don’t let anyone touch him, or, uh…” He shrugs. “Game over.”

“Got it,” she tells him.

He nods, and then Barry’s tone and posture shifts from the state it was before. Hands clasped in front of him, back straight, voice faux-chipper like he’s trying to convince a grade schooler to do homework, he asks, “Who wants to go on a hike?”

-

“Are we there yet?” Merle groans.

“Halfway,” Barry replies. “Kind of.”

“It’s only been two hours, Merle,” Magnus says. “You’re gonna be fine, old man.”

He shoots him a glare from behind the beads of sweat clinging to his eyelashes. “Easy for you to say. You’re entirely wooden.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t feel my pain.”

Magnus lifts his foot and jabs a finger towards it, pointing out the spots of dew clinging to his ankle. “Do you know this pain, Merle? Do you know? This shit is going to _warp_ in a week!”

He lifts up his own wooden arm. “Yeah. Yeah, Maggie, I do know that pain. And you know whose fault that is?”

Kravitz sinks into himself. “Sorry.”

Merle glances back at him, confusion clear on his face. “You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for, Kevin. It’s _this_ asswipe who needs to apologize.” 

“You were going to _die!”_ Magnus yells.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do!”

“You cut off my goddamn arm!”

“To save your life!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I—”

“Well,” Barry interrupts, effectively cutting into their argument. “I feel like this is a good place to set up camp.”

Lup at last notices the dimming of the sunlight and the soft purples of the sky beneath the near-black clouds. She feels, all at once, the heavy weight with which the soreness of her legs and the ache of her shoulders press upon her, and suddenly all she wants is to dig her head into Barry’s noncorporeal cloak and take a long, long rest on the soft grass and the cool forest floor.

She also notices the place Barry has chosen to set up camp— a place Lup doesn’t quite recognize, but the stumps of which have been carved out into comfortable seats. In the center is the blackened remains of a campfire. 

“Oh, hey!” Magnus is suddenly broken out of his bad mood, replaced with a joy spurred from excitement. “I remember this place!”

“I don’t,” says Merle.

“Me neither,” adds Taako.

Magnus’s bad mood quickly returns. “We stayed here before heading into Phandalin.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Merle leans towards Taako and stage-whispers, “I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

He lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh before slinging his bag off his shoulder, digging through it, and producing a single bedroll. “I hope you guys brought your own.”

Merle tenses. “Uh— I— I told you to hold mine, remember?”

He glances up, and even though he has no face, Lup can tell he’s shooting him a look. “No you didn’t.”

“Oh, yes I did. Did you lose it? Like how you lost my arm?”

Magnus unrolls his sleeping bag and sets it on the ground. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense is how you lost my one bedroll. The only one I own.”

“You didn’t give it to me.”

“And now you’re lying. Ha!” he scoffs. “Classic Magnus.”

Lup clears her throat. Their attention turns towards her. “No worries, Merle,” she says, confidently flipping her hair before sticking a palm in front of her. “I’ll get you one.”

She focuses on what she’s trying to manifest, imagining the feel of a sleeping bag in her hand, willing it into existence— it’s soft foam, it’s slick fabric, it’s warmth— but nothing happens. She tries again, harder this time— nothing. Dammit.

“Reaper magic,” Kravitz whispers to her. “Your power to summon material things is powered by the Raven Queen. Since she’s gone, so is it.”

She groans. Fuckin’ Hunger. Why does the apocalypse have to suck so bad?

“Listen, I’m not picky about where I sleep,” Taako says. “You can have my bedroll, Merle.”

“Oh, really, Taako? That’s so kind—”

“On one condition.”

“Oh.”

“I get ten coupons of my choice out of your magazines.”

“So long as it’s not the—”

“The _good_ magazines,” Taako clarifies.

Merle crosses his arms, draws his brow, and, after some deliberation, finally grumbles, “Fine.”

“Great.” He rummages through his pack and tosses Merle his sleeping bag. It is, in Lup’s opinion, very uncharacteristically nice of him, even with the promise of coupons. Maybe he would have done something similar for less in his late IPRE days, but this Taako— the one who doesn’t remember Merle, who knows only solitude— she didn’t think this Taako would have done something so kind.

That is, until he strolls over to a nearby log, places his hands on it, and begins to cast a spell. The glow under his palms spreads over it and molds it into a flat shape. When the glow finally drains away, it reveals a newly transmuted sleeping bag.

Yeah. That’s her Taako.

Barry floats up to the middle of the makeshift campsite and addresses the group. “Listen, we’re gonna have to sleep in shifts. Make sure nothing comes our way. We’re probably not gonna get another long rest before things break bad, so we gotta make it count. Who’s gonna take the first watch?”

“Not it,” says Lup. “Neither are you, Barry. I need to conk out and to do that I need a nice, noncorporeal pillow.”

Taako mimes gagging. She ignores him.

“I could—” 

Lup cuts him off before he starts. “No. Nuh uh. Come on, Barry, time to sleep. Who’s takin’ first watch?”

“Not it!” Taako says, just as quickly as Lup had, then points towards Kravitz. “Neither is he!”

Kravitz furrows his brow. “What are we doing?”

“I just saved you from staying up an extra couple hours,” he says, placing his hands on his hips, a smug smile spreading across his face. “No biggie. Thank me later.”

Merle crosses his arms. “Not fair! You can’t call ‘not it’ for another person!”

“Lup did.”

“Yeah, well— that’s— it doesn’t—” He sighs. Pouts. “Fine. But Magnus is keepin’ me company.”

Magnus swivels around. “I didn’t agree to that!”

“If we can call ‘not it’ for someone else, we should be allowed to call ‘it’ for someone else, too,” Merle tells him, nose in the air.

Lup shrugs. “Yeah, sounds fair.”

Magnus now swivels around to face her, jabbing an index finger in her direction. “You’re not in this!”

“We-e-ell.” Taako stretches as he takes heavy steps in the direction of his newly-transmuted bedroll. With lazy, slow movements, he removes his hat and sets it aside. “Taako’s going to bed. Night, everybody. See you in the mornin’.” 

“Great idea,” adds Lup. “C’mon, Barry. It’s bedtime.”

Magnus places his hands on his hips and all but shouts, “So I get turned into a mannequin and then I just get stuck with first watch? Is that how it is? Is that how you guys treat someone whose body was just _stolen_ from them? No fucking way!”

-

Magnus and Merle take first watch.

The sun is low in the sky, not yet past the horizon. It can’t be any later than seven in the evening, but Magnus’s body aches with exhaustion. Or, at least, as much as an artificial body can ache. 

Merle reaches into his bag and pulls out a can of Diet Pepsi, popping the tab with a satisfying hiss. When he realizes Magnus is watching him, he reaches into the depths of his pack and produces a six pack of pop. “Want one?”

He tries his best to level him with a look. “You brought that but you forgot your sleeping bag?”

“Priorities,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his Diet Pepsi. _“Can_ you have any?”

Huh.

It occurs to Magnus that he doesn’t have a mouth or stomach, nor any way to digest food or drink. If he can’t find a way to get his body back— which seems unlikely, given that it was flambed by a woman who keeps talking in static and who has apparently romanced the Red Robe— he’ll never need to eat or drink again. He’s lost a lot with this new mannequin body, actually. The ability to feel pain, for one. He hasn’t exactly tested it out, but he doesn’t have nerves anymore. The scars he’s collected are gone. He feels inhuman. 

He supposes he is.

He glances down at his palm, observing the direction of the grain. The curve of each cut. The stiffness in his movements. This body is new and off and distinctly not his. These are not the fingers with which he so carefully carved countless blocks of wood. These are not the hands he took an axe in and used to fight for his town. These are not the arms he held his wife with.

There is not a single nick on his perfectly varnished flesh. It makes him uncomfortable.

Beside him, Merle tilts his head. “You okay there, Maggie?”

“Yeah,” he croaks. 

He doesn’t seem like he quite believes him. Magnus doesn’t quite believe himself, either. “Can I tell you a story?”

He nods without looking at him. He’s watching the sun dip below the trees, its neon orange light shining through the leaves. If he were himself, it’d hurt to stare at— but he’s not himself, and he doesn’t have eyes to hurt.

He takes a sip of his pop. “I used to hate being a follower of Pan.”

Magnus can’t help but snort. “No-o-o,” he says in a tone of exaggerated shock. “You? _Not_ a paragon of faith and devoutness? I couldn’t _imagine!”_

“Shut up.” Merle elbows him as he snickers, but there’s the hint of a smile on his face. 

“Nope, can’t. Sorry.”

He grumbles something that sounds like _stupid asshole,_ but moves on all the same. “I didn’t like my group. They were exclusive— didn’t like people who didn’t do things exactly their way and were exactly like them and worshipped the exact same interpretations of Pan. I wanted to leave, but, you know. I was a kid. Couldn’t go anywhere.

“And I remember spending hours being so upset and so— just— ready to run away. But I also remember walking out of my home and onto my porch and seeing just the prettiest, most vividly-colored bird. And I remember walking up to it— just a few feet away from it— and we stared at one another for the longest time before she finally, finally flew away. And in that moment, I was happy.” He glances over at him. “You’re in a shitty situation right now, Maggie, but you have to remember not to live in your sadness. You’ve gotta appreciate the little things that _aren’t_ shitty. That’s what’s gonna help you through it.”

And for a while, they sit in a comfortable silence. There’s a breeze between the trees and the chirping of crickets and there is soft quiet, still and soothing and calm.

Magnus says, “You know what? Yeah, I’ll have a Diet Pepsi.”

“There’s my guy.” Merle tosses a can over to him.

Magnus pops the tab and waits for the newly-shaken fizz to settle, drinking in the sound of the satisfying hiss that results from it. For a moment, he just stares at it. And then he takes a sip.

He doesn’t have a mouth to drink it with. It spills onto his face and drips down his chin, drying onto his skin and sticking there. 

Merle lets out a belly laugh, hearty and loud enough to wake the people around them (although, luckily, they’re heavy sleepers and apparently don’t register the thunderous noise that is his laughter). He points at him, his finger trembling, and he’s too enthralled by the sight of him trying to drink Pepsi with no mouth that he can’t manage to form words around his giggling.

And Magnus laughs, too.

-

Barry is awoken by a kick in the back.

Once his brain catches up to his body and registers this fact, he blinks open his eyes and flops onto his back. Leaning over him is Merle. In the back of his mind, Barry is reminded of the few times in his childhood in which he stood over his mother’s bed until she woke so he could tell her he threw up. He wonders if this is how she felt.

He really hopes Merle didn’t throw up.

Merle greets him with a, “Wakey wakey, ghostie. My shift is up.”

Barry releases a groggy groan before (regrettably) lifting his arms away from Lup. She, too, lets out a grunt of discomfort as she folds in on herself. He can’t help but feel guilty. Barry really does want nothing more than to hold her all night and all morning, to sleep in with her, to bask in her presence for the first time in over a decade— a decade which he spent poring over maps and triangulating coordinates and shouting her name in abandoned places— but he supposes that he should make sure no one dies from a surprise monster attack. Thus, he reluctantly lifts himself off the ground.

He floats his way over to the designated watching spot— a fallen tree laying just at the edge of camp— and sits himself down beside Magnus. 

It’s weird to see him like this. Weird that Barry, a part-time lich, would think that any form a person took is weird. Still, he had a hard time seeing Magnus, who he remembers as a young man in his early twenties with a penchant for fighting and a heart forged with gold and optimism and naivete, turn into the Magnus he is now, older, an odd heaviness behind his eyes despite the loss of a hundred years of memories, still optimistic, still kind, still compassionate, but no longer so naive. To watch him forced out of his body and into one of wood, to see him beg for answers no one can give, to see him struggle to control the unfamiliar limbs and joints he’s been given— it’s difficult.

Magnus breaks the silence with, “You’re the Red Robe.”

“Yeah,” Barry replies. “I am.”

“The one we’re working against.”

“M’hmm.”

“Why are we supposed to trust you?”

“You don’t have to,” he tells him. “I just hope that you do.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, “I was hoping that I’d get some answers.”

“You will—”

“You keep saying that, but when?” he asks. “I keep hearing all of these confusing things, and seeing things I don’t understand, and— and knowing things I shouldn’t know, but not knowing them, and— and I— When am I going to get answers?”

Barry takes a deep breath. “I don’t know, Magnus. But soon. I can promise you that.”

If Magnus had eyes to roll, Barry gets the feeling he’d roll them. Instead, he leans against the palms of his hands, stares at the purpling evening sky, and asks, “What’s the deal with Lup?”  
He tenses. “What do you mean?”

“I mean how she showed up out of nowhere, looking exactly like Taako, acting like she cared about us, like she knows— like she—” Magnus winces and touches a finger to his temple. Static headaches, most likely. “Ugh. Like she knew things we didn’t. And now we get here and she not only knows you, but she, a reaper of liches, is your girlfriend. Lup, who I thought we were supposed to trust, is with a guy who we’ve been told not to trust. I don’t know what’s happening anymore and no one will fuckin’ _tell_ me.”

Barry shifts his gaze to the side. There’s no good way to answer all the questions he has. If he tells the truth, he’ll only hear static and get more upset. If he lies, he’ll be found out soon enough. It’s not the best position to be in.

Finally, he replies with, “Listen, Magnus, these people who you’re conflicted about trusting— Lucretia, Lup— they’re not evil. None of them are evil. They’re good people down to the core, just like you.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?” he asks. 

Barry drums his fingers against the log, thinking. And then, “Why did Lup come with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did she have any reason for coming to Wonderland? Any reason at all?”

He’s quiet for a moment before looking away from him. “She said she wanted to help us.”

“And did she?”

Another brief silence. “Yeah.”

“Because she’s a good person,” Barry tells him. “She wants to tell you what’s going on. We both do. But there are forces at work that just don’t allow us to do that and we’re trying to fix it.”

Magnus says nothing, nor does he look at him. For a while, it’s just wind and crickets and the distant howling of coyotes. Finally, he mumbles, “I saw myself in a red robe.”  
Barry feels himself tense. He whips around to look at him. “What?”

“There was a photo,” he tells him, hunched over, staring at the ground, “and I was wearing a red robe.”

Red sparks and the tiniest volts of electricity begin to leap from his fingers. He quickly pats them out, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. And he doesn’t know— not really, not to the full extent, not the complicated intricacies of how he got here and who he was and what he needs to do now— but he knows. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knows.

Magnus takes a deep, shuddering breath, and then asks, “Am I— am I evil?”

Oh.

Barry can feel the fear radiating off of him, the uncertainty, and he can’t help but feel his heart sink. Magnus, who prides himself on being good, whose compassion is limitless, who knows nothing but kindness, is afraid of a version of himself he never knew. Afraid of a concept he can’t understand. Afraid he isn’t the person he thinks he is. Magnus doesn’t deserve that. Magnus deserves to know the truth. He deserves to remember.

If only he could.

“No,” Barry tells him after a long bout of silence. “No, you aren’t.”

He nods nearly imperceptibly. 

And the sun dips lower in the sky.

-

When Lup wakes up, Magnus has already settled into his bedroll, sprawled out on the forest floor, asleep. If he still had a body, she knows he’d be drooling. 

Beside her, there’s a distinct lack of boyfriend. She doesn’t like that. 

Lup kicks herself out of the sleeping bag, squirming her way out from under the cover. The dirt beneath her is cold and muddy, but she doesn’t mind too much. She’s already covered in blood and grime from her trip through Wonderland. Might as well smear some dirt on her elbows while she’s at it. 

She strolls over towards Barry, her feet dragging behind her, her steps weighed by fatigue. She yawns, alerting him to her presence. He scooches over. She sits, leaning into his shoulder. She phases through to where half her face is sticking out of his non-corporeal flesh, but, well. Contact is contact and they haven’t had any in over ten years.

“Hey,” she mumbles from beneath ghost flesh and robe fabric.

“Hi,” he replies. “Your shift?”

“Mags didn’t wake me up,” she explains, although with her incomprehensible, slurred, tired morning speech, the excuse sounds more like, “‘Ags ‘i’n’t wake me.”

He pats her on her head. “Well, you can go back to sleep here.”

“No,” she groans. “I wanna—” She yawns. “— wanna hang out with you.”

Barry rubs circles into her scalp. “Yeah, okay. I wanna hang out with you, too.”

“Mm.” She digs her head deeper into the fabric of his robe, which has grown scratchy and stiff with age, but which she still believes is the most comfortable thing in the universe. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Lup,” he tells her, leaning his head onto hers. She feels the veil of sleep begin to descend upon her, that calm clearing in her head and soft burn of her eyelids, and for a moment she feels herself falling into that peaceful in-between, the safety of dreams and unconsciousness, and— 

“No!” She jolts upright, hitting Barry in the jaw by accident. “I’m awake! I’m— Oh my God, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he tells her, clearly trying to conceal laughter as he presses a skeletal hand against his hood. “Jeez, Lup, you really got me there.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Totally whacked me.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Betrayed by my own girlfriend.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just messin’ with you. Couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” He pulls back his hood, revealing the shifting fog beneath. “Noncorporeal.” 

“Oh. Right. Forgot liches can’t feel a lot of pain for a second there.”

“You _are_ a lich.” 

“Was. Reapers feel pain. Good ol’ Lady of the Goths kinda fucked up there.”

He clicks his tongue. “Bet she doesn’t approve of your dastardly death criminal boyfriend who keeps escaping her clutches.”

“Aww. Poor Crimson Phantom.”

“Why do I have that nickname?”

“Because it’s Kravitz who gave it to you,” she replies. “Don’t know if you noticed, but he’s a total nerd.”

“I noticed.” Barry straightens his back and morphs his voice into what she assumes is his best Kravitz impression— an awful Cockney accent, of course. _“By order of the Raven Queen, your soul is forfeit, blah, blah, blah, I chase liches minding their own business and try to kill them.”_

Lup can’t help but snort. “That’s him! Oh my God, that’s so him! Pretty sure I heard him say exactly that one time.”

Barry releases a sigh. “Hate that guy,” he mumbles.

“Aw, come on, babe. He’s cool. Most of the time.”

“How did you ever become friends with someone who sucks so bad?”

“Oh, funny story,” she tells him. “He killed me.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says. “What happened there?”

“I was lichin’ around, mindin’ my own business, and guess who rolls up to me with a scythe?”

“What the fuck?”

“Yeah, but then Miss Raven Queen made me a reaper and he was assigned to be my buddy, so I made his life a living hell, and now I live with him.”

“How?”

“Friendship is a funny thing, my dear Barold.” She pats his arm. “What’s this I hear about you being evil?”

“Common misconception,” he explains. “They see the ghost and the vaguely menacing messages and the spooky voice and they think ‘evil.’”

Lup gasps, straightening in her seat to look at him. “No. Don’t tell me you did the voice.”

“Oh, yeah, I totally did the voice.” Barry clears his throat. _PRETTY HOT, HUH?_

She giggles. “Super scary, babe.”

_I AM PRETTY SCARY._

“You know you could’ve just spoken in your normal voice.”

Barry’s voice shifts back to his regular tone. “Yeah, but— I don’t know. They’d met me before and I was afraid they’d recognize me. Didn’t want them thinking about it too much before they were ready to know about it. Besides, it adds flavor.”

“Love a bit of spice.”

“Everybody needs a bit of spice.”

“Why the vaguely menacing messages, though?”

_EVERYTHING SOUNDS VAGUELY MENACING IN THIS VOICE._

“You could’ve just done your Scottish accent. I think it’s impeccable.”

“Ugh, no, who am I? Kravitz?”

“Aw, come on. He’s nice. Plus, he’s really into Taako.”

“Well, then, Taako’s taste in men is awful.”

“You’ll like him. He’s a nerd just like you.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘just like me.’”

“‘Avid necromancer’ and ‘necromancer hunter’ are just two sides of the same coin, babe.”

“Not sure that that’s true.”

“No, it is. How else could I have joined?”

“Bribery.”

“Okay, how else other than bribery could I have joined?”

“I don’t know. You’re very charming.”

“Aw. No, I’m an asshole. It’s something I’m very proud of.”

“Alright, well, an endearing asshole.”

“So sweet.” She reaches up to pinch his cheek. Her fingers phase through his flesh and nearly bump against his skull while he sputters and waves her away. She giggles.

Barry sighs, but wraps an arm around her all the same. She leans into his touch. She wants to stay there forever, she thinks— cling to him for the rest of eternity and never let go. If Lup had known what was going to happen before she left— if she had known that would be the last time she would see him for over a decade, the last time she would fall asleep in his embrace, the last time she would tell him goodnight— she would have never left.

She wishes she would have at least woken him before she departed. At least then there would have been some goodbye. 

Leaving was the worst mistake of her life.

She is never, ever going to repeat it.

“I’m sorry,” Lup tells him, her voice a soft croak, seemingly apropos of nothing.

He tilts his head to face her. “For what? The accidental headbutting thing? Lup, it’s really not a big—”

“No,” she interrupts. “For everything.”

The faint, foggy outline of a brow that has trouble sticking to a single shape draws together. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yes, Barry, yes I do, I—” She takes a deep, shuddering breath, but it does nothing to alleviate the crack in her voice. “I told you I’d be back soon.”

It’s then that he pulls her nearer to him, resting a gentle hand on the back of her scalp as he allows her to nestle into the fabric of his chest. She tries to hold back the embarrassing sob in her throat, but she feels tears burning at the corners of her eyes nonetheless. She clutches him close, feeling the familiar, comforting static electricity prickling at the edges of her fingertips, breathing in the scent of burnt ozone he emanates.

“What happened to you?” he asks after a few moments spent in silence.

She sighs into his robe. She hates this story. Still, he deserves to know. “I was trying to get rid of the relic in Wave Echo Cave,” she replies, her voice trembling no matter how much she tries to steady it.

“And I— got killed. The umbrella took my soul. I spent a decade there.” Lup takes a deep breath. “Alone.”

“Oh, God,” Barry says to her, drawing her closer, resting his head above hers. “God, Lup, I— I’m so sorry. I— I looked everywhere for you, I was in Wave Echo Cave, I— I’m—”

“It’s not your fault,” she says. “I was hard to find.”

“But Taako?” he asks. “Taako— he picked up the umbrella. Was that— was that you?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Then he broke it and I escaped. But, I, uh— you know. I was killed. Again. By Kravitz.”

She feels his arms tense around her. “By _who?”_ _  
_

“I was a lich, he was supposed to hunt me, you know how it is. But I got a sweet gig out of it, so…”

“Lup.”

“Yeah, okay.” She lets out a wet laugh with little humor in it. “I just, um— He was assigned to be my supervisor, so I made his life hell, obvi— but, uh… I couldn’t… go anywhere. Creating portals to different planes is something that takes a while to get ahold of over there. And I wanted to look for you, I did, I wanted nothing more than to find you, but— but I couldn’t, and—” Another sob crawls up her throat. “Barry, I missed you so much.”

He lets her cry, lets her weep ugly tears into his robe while he hugs her close. “I missed you, too,” he whispers. “I missed you, too.”

There’s another silence between them. This time, it’s filled with the sound of hair being swept away from her face and the swaying of trees and the croaking of frogs. The dark cloud of the Hunger still hangs over their heads, but it can’t do anything here. All it can do is sit and watch their reunion. Watch them find happiness in each other while it festers, lonely and hopeless and jealous.

Lup pities them, almost. She knows what it is to be alone.

“I never stopped looking for you,” he tells her, his voice soft. “Me and Taako, we— we looked every single day you were gone. And when he couldn’t anymore, I dedicated every second I had to searching. I just— I knew you were out there. Somewhere.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I mean, thank you, Barry, so much, but— I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never came back.”

He takes a finger and lightly guides her chin towards him, looking her straight in the eyes. “Lup,” he says, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was,” she replies. “It was, I should’ve—” 

“No matter what happened to you, no matter where you went, no matter what you did, I always, always, always would have kept searching for you. You don’t need to apologize for the time I took to look for you, or for not saying goodbye, or for going to Wave Echo Cave, and you _absolutely_ don’t need to apologize for going missing. You’re the love of my life, Lup.” He tilts his head. “You think I would ever give up on you?”

Lup leans forward, meeting her lips with his. It’s staticky, of course, and pins and needles quickly spread across her entire face, but she doesn’t mind. She missed the static and the pins and needles and the ozone. She missed him.

She nestles into the crook of his neck. He is safe and he is good and he is love and adoration and kindness and compassion and she doesn’t deserve him, not in any plane or world or universe, because he is everything bright. 

She’s so happy he chose to be with her.

She’s so happy he’s here.

They settle in together for a long, long watch.

-

_“You’ve gotta recover spell slots, Bar.”_

_“Yeah, but—”_ _  
_

_“_ _I’ll crawl into bed after this shift. Promise.”_

_“I can stay—”_ _  
_

_“You need rest, dipshit. Dipshit whom I love.”_

_“But I—”_ _  
_

A kissing noise. _“Love you, night.”_

Taako groans and rolls over in his bedroll. Fuckin’ Lup. Fuckin’ Red Robe. Who knew the creepy ghost guy delivering omens of their destruction was such a massive sap?

He hears footsteps approaching him. No, no, no, no—

“I know you’re awake, Taako.”

Taako peeks one eye open to take a glance at Lup, who is standing over him, hands on hips, eyebrow raised. 

He rolls over once again. “No I’m not.”

“Uh-huh. Your turn, dingus.”

“That doesn’t sound right. I’m pretty sure I already did my shift. Are you sure it’s not Merle’s turn?”

“Get up.”

“Ugh-h-h-h.” 

“Don’t make me do it.”

“Do what?”

Lup crouches down to her knees, yanks his hand away, and pinches him on the web between his left ring finger and middle finger. He draws back, cradling his hand in his palm. Not only is being pinched in between the fingers a weird, uncomfortable sensation, but the skin in that area specifically has always been especially sensitive for him. How the fuck did she know to pinch him there?

“Do that,” she says, interrupting his thoughts. “Come on. Otherwise, I’m poking your armpit.”

How does she know about _that?_

He lifts Kravitz’s arm from overtop of him— weird how he’s managed to spread eagle in a sleeping bag— and at last manages to wriggle out. The ground is so cold and Kravitz is so cold and God, how he wishes he had thought to bring his sleepy sack. 

Despite the inconveniences wrought upon him, Taako grabs his hat, pulls on his cloak, casts his Disguise Self spell, and begins trudging after Lup towards the log they’re meant to keep watch upon. She offers up a grin much too toothy for someone being forced to stay up in the middle of the night.

She pats the spot beside her. He slumps down, pulling his cloak tighter against him. It’s chilly this late at night— late enough that the moon has risen high in the sky, yet it’s so dim he has trouble seeing, even with his darkvision. 

“You got a Snuggie or some shit on you?” he asks. 

“No,” she replies. “But I’ve got this.”

She holds out the palm of her hand and in it creates a small flame. It flickers beneath the force of the passing breeze.

“Yeah, I can’t feel shit from that,” he tells her. Which is true— it’s too tiny of a fire to radiate any warmth.

She sighs and closes her hand in a fist, snuffing out the flame she’d just summoned. Smoke seeps out from between the cracks of her fingers. “Damn, okay. Not good enough for you. I see.”

“Uh, yeah, _yeah,_ Lup, I’m sorry. I’m not feeling exactly cozy and warm from the fuckin’ lighter flame you made.” 

“I made that fire out of thin air.”

“Yeah? Check out what I can make from thin air.” He casts Mage Hand, only to make it flip her off before he dispels it. “Get on my level.”

“Uh, yeah, okay, Taako. Let me just, uh…” She digs a hand around in her pants pocket, only to pull it out a few seconds later, revealing an outstretched middle finger cloaked in a massive flame.

“See?” he says. “You could _make_ fire. You don’t have to, like, give me a little bitty candle flame when I say I’m cold.”

“Nah, I’m not wasting spell slots on you.”  
“Rude.”

“Says the guy who just used Mage Hand to tell me to fuck off.”

“Says the lady who chooses to try and warm me up with a fire that a fuckin’ baby could safely play with but then gives me an actual campfire just to flip me off.”

“Yeah, it’s called pyrotechnics. It’s something cool people can do.”

“You know something cool people can do? Refrain from being an asshole.”

“You’re the asshole.”

“Nuh uh. You’re the asshole.”

“You.”

“No, you.”

“You.”

“You.”

“Hey, Taako?”

“Uh huh?”

“You got any pocket snacks on you?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” He immediately forgets the argument they’ve been having and instead digs around in his pocket for the appropriate snack. There’s pudding— no— arugula— nah— and then he finally finds his Chex Mix pocket. He scoops up a handful and deposits it in her waiting palm while he takes some for himself. This pocket snack cloak was his best idea yet. He just wishes he could remember how he came up with it. If he could, he’d be making a fortune off the patent.

In between bites, Lup asks, “You know what would go great with this right now?”

Simultaneously, they both reply, “Strawberry jelly.”

Taako’s head snaps over to look at Lup, who is staring back at him. 

He begins with, “It’s the perfect combination—”

“— of sweetness and saltiness,” she finishes.

Fuckin’ weird.

He wordlessly reveals one end of his cloak and nudges the strawberry jelly pocket towards her. She dips a pretzel in and pops it in her mouth.

For a moment, they sit in silence with one another— not awkward, but not entirely comfortable, either. And Taako _does_ feel comfortable around her. Which is why he feels weird. Never-ending paradox. 

He doesn’t like how safe he feels around her. It inherently sends alarm bells up in his brain— she feels safe and thus she isn’t, she can’t be, because that feeling of safety and trust is earned. And yet he enjoys her company. He _thrives_ in it. Even though his brain told him not to, even though the more logical part of himself warned him that something was off, he couldn’t help but call her on the Stone, couldn’t help but converse with her, couldn’t help but tell her about Wonderland. 

Why did he tell her about Wonderland?

Why did he tell her about Sazed?

Why did he feel like he had to?

His thoughts are interrupted by Lup’s giggling. “Oh, man, this reminds me. Do you remember when—”

She cuts herself off abruptly, pursing her lips and looking off to the side. _No,_ Taako thinks. _No, not fucking again._

“Remember what?” he asks, because he wants answers, needs them, no matter how much she says he can’t get them. 

She glances at him, then glances back at the swirling clouds above. “Ah, it’s nothing.”

“No, tell me,” he says, perhaps a little too firmly. 

And she sighs, and clicks her tongue, and stares back. “Do you remember when—” Static. “and—” Static. “jacket—” Static.

Taako clenches his jaw. 

Lup keeps staring him right in the eye, not daring to break contact. Her brow furrowed, she asks, “You don’t, do you?”

And he keeps staring.

Lup is the one to shift her gaze away, and she seems— sad, almost, though he doesn’t know why, and when he tries to figure it out his ears start to ring and a headache begins to form at his temples. There’s something wrong. Something wrong that he can’t piece together, no matter how obvious the solution is.

There is a woman that wears his face and has his dialect and his sense of humor and apparently his memories, who he inherently enjoys the company of no matter how much his brain screams at him not to, who knows him and who wants to protect him for whatever godforsaken reason, and— and Taako wants to protect her, too, even though he’s never met her, even though he doesn’t know her, even though he has no idea why she wears his face and possesses his dialect and sense of humor and memories.

Taako doesn’t know what this means. He doesn’t know if he’s able to.

He wants to find out.

In an attempt to ease the tension he’s created, he puts on his practiced facade of indifference and nonchalance, leans back on his hands, and asks, “You wanna test out what armpit nacho cheese and Lucky Charms tastes like?”

A slow grin spreads across her face as she swivels her head back to him. “Fuck yeah I do.”

-

Kravitz awakes to violent shaking.

That is, Kravitz awakes to Taako waking him from his sleep like he’s a goddamn maraca and Taako is playing a solo. 

“I’m up!” he says, swatting him away. “I’m up, I’m up! What’s happening?”

Taako leans over his face, his hair dangling over his shoulder. “It’s your shift.”

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes— he doesn’t have to sleep, not really, but it’s nice to get some rest and not nice when he’s abruptly woken from it— and sits up. His eyes catch on the sight of Lup, whose arms are in the oddest position and who is drooling onto the fabric beneath her head. Beside her, the Crimson Phantom— He’s still mad at him, no matter what Lup says— is curled up in fetal position, one arm around her waist. 

“She just went to sleep, like, five minutes ago,” he informs him. “I don’t know how she’s managed to do that.”

He rises to his feet and dusts himself off. Gray clouds roll above him, threatening a storm that doesn’t seem like it’s going to come. Beyond them, the dark of the night is brightening. 

“Come on, handsome,” says Taako, tugging him by the wrist. “Someone’s gotta keep these dinguses from getting killed.”

He leads him to the trunk of a fallen tree, which he deftly steps over and sits down upon. Kravitz does the same, settling in next to him, perhaps closer than is warranted for the space the log provides them. Taako doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“Thanks for not dying this time,” Kravitz says.

“Yeah, it was actually really difficult this time. Almost did die there for a minute.”

He feels himself tense. “You _what?”_ _  
_

“No, it’s cool, Lup, uh…” He looks almost embarrassed. Confused, too, but primarily embarrassed. “Lup bailed me out.”

He smiles, if only a little. Even if he couldn’t come with her, he’s so glad Lup was there. He doesn’t want to imagine what would happen if she wasn’t. “She kinda bailed me out, too, if you didn’t notice.”

“Aw, come on. I helped.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“I really did, though!”

“Of course.”

“No, but— I was there!”

“Uh-huh.”

Taako scoffs, crossing his arms and slumping into his seat. “I _was_ worried about you,” he grumbles, not meeting his eyes.

Kravitz feels his grin widen. “Aw—”

“Emphasis on _was,”_ he snaps. “Not anymore, asshole.”

He can’t help but let a laugh bubble up from his throat. “Sorry, Taako.”

“Uh-huh, I bet you are,” he retorts, but he’s smiling, too.

And Kravitz stares him in the eyes, reveling in his company, in the briskness of the night, in the soft moonlight illuminating his features. He really likes Taako, he thinks. It’s been a while since he’s liked someone this much.

“I really do appreciate you,” he tells him, watching his eyes flicker up to look at him before he shifts his gaze again, still smiling. 

And then that smile melts. Morphs into shame. Taako tugs on his hat, trying and failing to subtly pull it down over his face.

He furrows his brow. “What’s wrong?” 

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. And then, “I have something to tell you.”

Kravitz freezes.

Taako doesn’t like him. Taako is trying to tell him that he doesn’t want him here, trying to signal to him that he should leave— that he doesn’t feel the same way Kravitz does about him, clearly, and Kravitz is an idiot for not noticing. He can’t believe he didn’t notice. Why didn’t he notice? Kravitz likes him, really likes him, and it’s blinded him from the apparent truth that Taako doesn’t—

Taako interrupts his thoughts with, “Something happened in Wonderland.”

His mind goes blank.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Suddenly, the thoughts racing through his mind are replaced by ones of torture, of agony, of whatever evils that are intrinsically a part of something like Wonderland. Something so awful, so incredibly wicked, that it could hurt people like Merle, like Magnus, like Lup, like Taako. He wishes so desperately that he could have been there. He would have killed the liches running the place before they even had a chance to hurt them.

Taako continues. “I, uh— Wonderland is about sacrifice, right? And they wanted me to sacrifice something that, uh… that was… um.” He clears his throat. “I’ll just show you.”

He snaps his fingers and his face melts into something different than what Kravitz knows. It’s subtle— it’s the length of his eyelashes, and the volume of his hair, and the smoothness of his skin, and the gap in his teeth, his freckles, his crooked smile, all the things that he knows Taako took pride in. Gone. 

He scratches the back of his head. “Uh. Yeah. Listen, I just— Personally, I thought you should know now, just in case this, uh, changes anything for you. Didn’t want to catfish you or anything. I just, uh… yeah. “

Oh.

Suddenly, Kravitz feels like shaking Taako by the shoulders.

Obviously he still likes him so much it’s unreal. Obviously he still enjoys his company. Obviously he thinks Taako is the most gorgeous man on the face of the Earth. Obviously this doesn’t change anything. Obviously, obviously, obviously.

Kravitz puts one hand on his shoulder. His head swivels back towards his own. 

“Taako,” he says, staring him right in the eye, “I’m crazy about you. There is no way in any universe in any world in any lifetime where I could not be crazy about you. Of course this doesn’t change anything.”

He glances up at him and for a moment he thinks he might be a little misty-eyed, but he quickly blinks away any tears that may have been there, resuming his usual indifferent, nonchalant countenance. “Yeah, that was actually a test. Your face is a skull half the time, so, like, no fucking kidding.”

He snorts. Then laughter bubbles out of his throat as he giggles uncontrollably with unbridled, unfiltered joy. 

And Taako laughs, too.

-

Lup wakes early in the morning when the sun hangs lowest in the sky, dusting the clouds with pinks and oranges and illuminating its surroundings just enough for the pitch blackness of the night to recede, but not enough to vanish the stars. A cool breeze reaches her, sending goosebumps down her arms. She breathes in the brisk morning air, feels it send a shockwave to her lungs, crawl up her spine. Barry’s arm is still around her, cold and numbing and nice. She hates to move it away, but— well. She’d better check on things.

She rolls out from under him, rising to her feet, her hands slick with the grass’s morning dew. Lup trudges towards the fallen tree to find Taako slumped up against Kravitz’s shoulder while Kravitz stares at the sky above.

He must hear her coming from the crunching of the leaves beneath her feet. He glances over at her and softly whispers, “Hey.”

“Hey,” she replies, and then, nodding towards Taako, “He asleep?”

“Yeah. Couldn’t wake him,” he tells her, which she takes as code for “didn’t want to wake him.”

When she rounds the corner, she sees that Taako has dropped his beauty spell.

Huh.

Lup settles in next to Kravitz and watches, too, the bright sun peeking against the pinks and oranges and reds of early daytime. “Sorry,” she tells him. “Again.”

His lip upturns. “Thought we were done apologizing. Listen, Lup, that fight—”

“No,” she cuts him off. “I— I was afraid to tell you. About Barry.”

He turns his head around to face her, studying her expression. She shifts her eyes away from his.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him again. “I— I should’ve trusted you, I—”

This time, it’s Kravitz who interrupts her. “No. I understand.”

She looks back towards him. “You do?”

“I do,” he replies. “I understand. I, um, wasn’t so kind to you. About your lichdom, I mean. And I was so intent on reaping your friends when I thought _they_ were liches. I get you not wanting to tell me.”

Lup digs her fingernails into the bark of the log. She shouldn’t ask, she knows, but her mouth is moving faster than her mind, and— “Would you have reaped him?”

She doesn’t look at his face when she asks. She doesn’t want to see.

“Yeah,” he says. “A long time ago.”

She furrows her brow. “A long time ago?”

“A long time ago,” he repeats. “I’d been following him for years. Trying to catch him. His bounty was so large that so many people tried to capture him, but when nobody could, he gained sort of a— reputation. And I— I don’t know. I felt like I _needed_ to reap him. Like if I did, I might be… liked, or something. So I tried and I tried and I didn’t stop trying.” He looks at her straight in the eyes and doesn’t look away. Lup doesn’t, either. “If I hadn’t met you, Lup, and I had the chance to reap him, I would have taken it. But the moment I knew he was important to you— the moment I realized the lich I’d been chasing was someone you loved— all the frustration and the hatred and the desire to reap him melted away. 

“You were looking for him too, but not in the way I’d been. I was looking for him because I wanted money and glory and pride. You were looking because you wanted your boyfriend back. My reasons for loving you are deeper than my reasons for hating him. You’re my best friend, Lup, and as long as you loved him, I would have never, ever taken him away from you.”

Her heart swells.

Lup wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a hug. 

He hugs her, too.

“I love you so much, man,” she tells him, and her heart is so full.

“Love you, too,” he replies. “Stop drinking all of my Coke.”

She giggles, albeit a little wetly, no matter how hard she’s trying to choke down her embarrassing weeping. Lup does not cry. Disregarding earlier in the night, of course, and a few select times in which her feelings got the better of her, she does _not_ cry.

She feels a prickling sensation at the corner of her eye.

Fuck.

As quickly and as subtly as she can, Lup reaches up a finger and swipes her tears away so as to get rid of any evidence that she cries. Fuck yeah. Sneaky.

After a few long moments of hugging the other tightly, they finally break away. 

The sun continues to rise under the darkness of the clouds, its light peeking through the dense blanket of grayness above.

In the waning dimness, Lup finds Kravitz’s hand.

-

When Lup and Kravitz (and Taako, although much more groggily) finally head back to the campsite, the sun has finally ascended beyond the trees, shining its light on the land below. When the sound of their footsteps reach them, Barry finally stirs from his slumber.

Lup crouches down next to him. “Hey.”

His reply is much quieter, bogged down by early morning sleepiness. “Hey.”

“Mornin’.”

He yawns, then glances up toward the sky. A storm still festers, just as it did the night before, and it’ll keep festering until the last relic is delivered to Lucretia’s grasp. And Lup— Lup doesn’t know what she’ll do then.

“Shit,” he grumbles. “Guess we better get moving.”

“Guess so.” She grabs hold of his hand and helps him to his feet. “Where’s this hideout you’ve been telling me about?”

“Not far.” He glances back at the sleeping figures of Magnus and Merle, who Kravitz and Taako have taken on the duty of waking (Taako taking a more aggressive approach— now they have to suffer what it was like to be woken by him when she and Taako were children). “Should we head out?”

And Lup gazes into the woods beyond, the edges of the Felicity Wilds, with its overgrown roots and thick forest of trees and brambles and bushes and thorns, with its sharp-toothed creatures and waiting predators, with its unexpected sereneness. She gazes out onto the road to Phandalin, the narrow dirt path that now leads to nowhere, to a black circle of glass she created, to the last tragedy she will ever be responsible for, the last time she will ever have to see the destruction wreaked by that fucking glove. She gazes at the sky above, at the storm the Hunger is preparing for, at the eyes she cannot see but which she knows are there, watching, waiting, and she knows that this will be the last time she’ll ever have to see it.

And she gazes into Barry’s face. The fog that is his flesh morphs and shifts around his skull, unable to stay in one place for very long, while he holds her hand with his skeletal fingers, numbing her entire arm with pins and needles. She loves him. She loves him, she loves him, she loves him, and she is never losing him again. No more Phandalins— no more Hunger— no more loss.

She rubs his knuckles with the pads of her fingers. “Yeah,” she says, quiet and soft. “Yeah, let’s head out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brain: kravitz and lup have spoken maybe twice in canon  
> me: KRAVITZ AND LUP ARE BEST FRIENDS AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER AND GOD HELP ME I WILL MAKE THEM HUG  
> anyways!!!! how is everybody? my mom bought a bunch of fun sized candy bars and stuffed them in the cookie jar. that was two days ago. we are almost out of fun sized candy bars. i have no restraint  
> also halloween is approaching!!! are y'all excited? im planning to eat a ton of candy and watch a bunch of scary movies. maybe a scary video game. one. for some reason i am totally fine to watch horror movies or read horror stories and they don't affect me at all but i can play a scary game for maybe 5 minutes and then i stop as soon as there is danger. also. yes minecraft is a horror game. WHY DO THE MONSTERS SOUND LIKE THAT :( WHY DO THEY COME OUT OF NOWHERE :( I JUST WANT TO FIND SOME IRON  
> anyways i hope y'all enjoyed this!!!!!! thanks so much for reading!!!!  
> NEXT CHAPTER: trip to the bureau of balance base!!!!!!!!!!  
> tumblr: nillial


	18. A Plan Set Into Motion

The remaining walk to Barry’s hideout doesn’t take long.

He guides them through a few more paths, the woods clearing as they walk. He leads them into the desert, into a stretch of nothingness, towards a mountain range and past a black circle of glass that he knows Lup doesn’t want to see. Their destination ends up being a small hut, falling apart with rotted wood and mold, set between some trees against the base of some mountains that might be better classified as big hills. It’s not too far from Wave Echo Cave. Lup wonders how long he’d been residing here— how long he was so close to her without even knowing it. It makes her heart ache to think about.

The door creaks upon stepping inside. Grass peeks through the floorboards. In fact, the floor is, if she’s being honest, less of a floor and more of some wood stacked against dirt. A breeze floats through cracks in the thin walls. She shivers.

Inside is a wooden chest, a bed, and a weathered desk littered with crumpled papers and a scattering of pens, above of which hangs a corkboard with a map at its center, overwhelmed by thumbtacks and the red thread connecting them all. On the sides are a metric ton of sticky notes—  _ Glamour Springs Neverwinter Goldcliff _ _ NOTHING HERE, CHECK SOUTHWEST FELICITY.  _ and  _ Lup lich form? Possible lead in Snowborough.  _ and  _ Checked up on Mag + Mer + T, eta 3 days, remember to prep coin. _ Perhaps the most eye catching feature is a container that sits against the center of the far wall: a tall container filled with green slime, inside of which is the silhouette of a body. Barry’s body.

Behind her, Kravitz steps inside, looking less than excited. His face is scrunched in concern and he holds his stomach as if he’s queasy, his shoulders tensed and raised as he scans the area. When he at last sees the container resting against the wall, his eyes widen, his stature goes rigid, and he seems almost scared. 

“I’m gonna—” He coughs. It’s forced. “I’m gonna, um, I’m gonna go wait outside.”

She tries to tell him to wait, but he shuffles out the door too quickly for her to say much of anything. 

Well. Lup supposes that a body floating in a vat of plasma would be enough to make anyone uneasy— even a seasoned reaper like Kravitz, who’s seen and dealt with a lot of fucked up shit. She’s still surprised, however. She was under the impression that he’d seen much worse, thus his reaction to a vague silhouette of a body seems somewhat uncharacteristic for him. Perhaps he just found it a little gross. 

Taako, Magnus, and Merle come trailing in after her, taking in the room much like she did. While Magnus examines the papers on the desk (although she suspects he can’t read most of them), Taako peers at the corkboard and Merle taps on the glass of the container housing Barry’s body. 

“Aw, Merle,” she says, “don’t do that. It’ll scare him.”

He tentatively removes his finger from the container’s surface, looking sufficiently weirded out.

Barry at last comes floating inside. “Welcome to my hideout,” he says.

Taako is the first to reply, swiveling around to face him and asking, “We could’ve slept here last night. In a house. You asshole.”

Magnus replies, “It’s not much of a house.”

“Ouch,” says Barry.

“Uh, hello.” Taako knocks on the wooden boards in front of him. “It has walls and a ceiling. House.”

“More like a shed—”   


“Ouch,” says Barry, once again.

“Walls and ceiling! House! Lup, back me up.”

Lup shrugs and adds, “Yeah, I mean, It’s got all your standard house stuff. Like… you know. Walls. And a ceiling.”

Magnus gestures to the body floating in the vat of green liquid. “This is not standard house stuff.”   


“Oh, okay, and you don’t have a spare body stored in some leftover goop?” She pretends to check her nails. “Lame.”

_ “What?” _ he asks.

“Exactly!” Taako exclaims simultaneously. _   
_

While they bicker with one another, she feels a hand lay on her shoulder and knows who it belongs to from the familiar sensation of pins and needles.

She glances back at him. Smiles because she can’t help it. “Yeah?”   


“Is your, uh— is your friend okay?” asks Barry. “I saw him just, um, standing outside.”

“Yeah, I think he just got grossed out by your people soup over there.” She nods her head towards the container of bright green plasma next to the wall. “Human jello’s not everyone’s thing.”   


“Yeah. No, yeah, I see where you’re coming from.” He shifts his gaze from her, lifting up a hand to scratch the back of his head. A nervous tic he’s retained even after he’s lost his body. “I just, uh… I think I’m gonna go…” He sighs. “Check on him.”   


Her eyes widen. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Kravitz is upset and she just ignored him. Waved him off and let him go without a further thought. Of course he’s upset— there’s a fucking floating body in the corner and not only is it weird, it’s necromancy, necromancy he probably isn’t used to, and— and— 

“I’ll go out and see if he’s okay,” Lup tells him, already worried, already trying to move past him and through the door.

Barry, however, stops her by putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “No, I’ll do it. I, uh…” Another sigh, and then he mumbles, “I know we haven’t had the best relationship thus far, but… he’s your friend.”   


A smile spreads across her face. She pulls him into a tight hug, taking him by surprise, but he returns the gesture nevertheless. “Thank you,” she tells him.

Barry kisses her on the top of her head, releases her from his arms, and slips out the door. Once it swings shut again, Lup turns back towards Taako and Magnus— whose conversation has now adopted Merle’s input and has since shifted from what constitutes as a house to a discussion of whether or not they could make a dessert from the Human Jello. 

Lup interrupts them with, “I have a sample of that stuff, actually.”   


All three of them suddenly fall silent and turn their attention to her.

-

Barry closes the door behind him. 

The door, he thinks, is probably not much of a necessity on a place like this. It does nothing to keep the weather out, nor does it provide any sort of privacy or safety. Instead, it mostly just remains uselessly set in its frame, slamming open at any hint of a breeze and appearing as if it’s going to fall off its hinges if somebody were to look at it wrong.

He really should replace it. Sometime.

Kravitz is leaning against a nearby tree. He’s tapping his fingers against his arms, kicking the ground with his shoe over and over again, his gaze held steady on the hut in front of him. His face is twisted in something like discomfort— like worry, although Barry can’t figure out where its source stems from. 

Kravitz is still staring past him at and at the hut when Barry approaches him. “Uh… Hi.”   


He quickly glances at him, then back at the hut, and finally back at him, a look of shock in his eyes, like he hadn’t noticed him coming. “Oh. Um. Hey.”

An awkward silence permeates the air between them. He didn’t think this through.

“So… um…” says Barry, “You okay?”   


Kravitz shifts his gaze back towards the hut. “Yeah. Fine.” 

He reaches up to scratch the back of his head. All it does is make the fabric of his hood phase through his foggy flesh and press against his skull. He’s got to stop doing that. “Hey, listen, the body in there isn’t, like, someone else’s body, it’s mine, like, I grew it—”

Kravitz shudders and cuts him off with an, “Okay.”

“Just. Um. Letting you know. That I didn’t, uh— yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Sorry.”   


“Okay.”   


Another silence. This is weird. He made it weird. He  _ grew  _ it? How was that supposed to be comforting?

He tries again, this time by saying, “I don’t mean, like, I— like I stole it, or something, like, it’s actually my body—”   


Again, Kravitz interrupts him. “How?”   


Another silence, brief this time, as Barry registers his question. “What?”   


“How? How are you growing it?”   


“Oh.” Weird, he supposes, but not as weird as Barry trying to explain that he didn’t steal a body. What’s wrong with him today? “Uh, well, whenever I die in my flesh body and I go back to being a lich, I collect some blood or hair or bone or— you know, whatever, DNA— and then I come back here, pop it in the container, wait a few months, and it's done.”

“And who did you kill?”   


He blinks. “What?”

Kravitz turns his whole body to face him now, his stature rigid, as he jabs a finger towards the hut. His brow is knitted together as he nearly shouts at him, and, if Barry didn’t know any better, he’d say his eyes were just a little wet. “Clone. That’s a Clone spell. You’re using a fucking Clone spell so you can have a few months in a human body before you inevitably waste it because you don’t  _ know  _ the meaning of death and you don’t  _ know  _ what it’s like to die, not like that, not permanently, and you abso-fucking-lutely don’t know what it’s like to die as fuel for a  _ fucking  _ Clone spell.” He throws his hands up. “I don’t— I honestly thought it’d be fine. Like, I’d been chasing you for all these years because you had such a huge bounty on your head and you had this reputation for being elusive, and I just, you know, I  _ figured  _ you had done some shit to earn a bounty like that. But then I met Lup, and I love Lup, and when I learned how important you were to her I thought that maybe you were good!  Maybe it’d be fine! But I was wrong! As usual! Because you’re out here killing people for a goddamn Clone spell—”   


“Wait,” says Barry, “killing?”   


He drags a hand down his face. “Don’t play dumb with me right now.”   


“I’m not! I’m not, it’s just…” He purses his lips. “Um, there’s now an alternative Clone spell that’s been modified to eliminate the ‘murder’ component.”

For a moment, Kravitz is quiet, staring with wide eyes at the space in front of him. “What?”   


“Yeah. It was developed, uh, maybe fifty years ago? Relatively recently. It’s just that it’s not super common yet because it requires specific, hard to find materials, so most people buy a container with plasma enchanted with regenerating uses of the spell, like I have, but it’s really expensive. So.”

“Oh.” He shrinks in on himself, leaning up against the tree once again. “Oh. Oh, I’m… I’m really sorry, I—”

“No!” he interrupts, holding the palms of his hands up in front of him. “No, no, it’s okay! You don’t have to apologize! I totally get it! I mean, I’d be pretty put off if I was led to some shack in the woods and I thought a ghost guy was killing people for their souls.”

He chuckles, albeit a little forced. “Yeah. Um.” He folds his arms. “I’m just— I really am sorry. I, um— I’ve had some—  _ bad experiences,  _ one might say with, uh, shacks in the woods and Clone spells, so I assumed the worst. Sorry.”

Barry leans up against the tree next to him, trying to replicate his pose, although the whole non-corporeal thing is really messing it up for him. Still, he tries his best not to slip through the tree trunk, and tells him, “Once again, no need to apologize.”

Kravitz offers him a smile, then goes back to staring at the hut, although he doesn’t seem as uncomfortable as before. “Also sorry about the whole, um… hunting you down thing.”

“Aw, water under the bridge,” he tells him, waving a hand dismissively. “Just don’t send me to Hell.”

“You’ve got my word.” There’s another brief moment of quiet, and then, “Um. Thank you. For, uh… checking. On me.”

Barry swivels his head around to look at him. He’s got his gaze focused on the ground, his arms folded, not meeting his eyes, but there’s the hint of a smile on his lips. “Yeah,” says Barry. “Yeah, of course. Hey, if you need me to, I can get Lup to keep you company out here while I step into the tank—”

He cuts him off with, “No. No, that’s alright. I’m— I’ll be alright. Thanks.”

Barry remains silent for a moment, and then, “Hey, um, I hope—” He begins to mumble, a little flustered over the words that come out of his words next. “— I hope you know I’m glad that Lup has you.”

A look of shock crosses over Kravitz’s face, which morphs into flattered embarrassment and settles into a small smile across his lips. “I’m really glad you she has you, too, Barry.”

And they stay like that for a minute, silent, leaning against their respective trees, staring at a hut with different meanings and memories for the both of them. And Barry really is glad that Lup has Kravitz— she seems so happy around him, so full of unadulterated joy, joking and teasing and laughing about things Barry doesn’t understand until Lup tells him about it (so far, he’s heard about Jim, a cooking show, and a game of bridge against the Raven Queen that Lup insists she won but which Kravitz swears she’s lying about). It’s not unlike how she once was with members of the IPRE. 

He still remembers how miserable Lup was before she left. How she would barely talk to him and Taako, much less anyone else. How she would sleep and sleep and then spend three nights awake agonizing over that gauntlet.

And here she is now. Happy. Confident. Herself again. A new friend in tow, because of course Lup would come back with a new friend in tow, as is her nature.

Barry smiles at him. “Didn’t you have an accent that one time?”   


The hint of a grin on Kravitz’s face suddenly drops, his eyes widen, his shoulders scrunching as he sinks his head into his hands. “Oh, God.”

-

When the door opens again ten minutes later, she hears, “Lup! Lup, your boyfriend has a  _ work accent!” _

Oh. Oh, no.

She swivels around to face Kravitz, who is beaming at her, although there’s a hint of smugness there that she knows is because he thinks he’s proving to her that work accents are a thing. They are not. She will remain adamant about this fact as long as her immortal life lasts.

“The lich voice,” she says firmly, “is not a work accent.”

“Could you do that same thing? Lup, could you do that same thing when you were a lich? Do all liches have work accents?”   


“They are not work accents!”

Barry cuts in with, “Well, I mean, kind of…”   
She shifts her focus from Kravitz to him. “Whose side are you on?”

From behind them, Magnus clears his throat. Or, at least, he imitates the sound of a person clearing their throat. She imagines he doesn’t have a throat to clear anymore. “What’s the people smoothie thing about?”

“Oh. That.” Barry takes a deep breath. “Listen, boys after I crawl into that pod, things are going to go very fast. There’s going to be things you don’t understand and a lot of decisions you won’t know the consequences of but I promise you that if all goes well, you’ll have answers before the end of today. I, however, will be as clueless as you are, because in there—” He points at the silhouette curled up inside the green plasma. “— is my body.”

She watches as Magnus’s mannequin form perks up, but Barry says, “Magnus, I can see the wheels in your head spinnin’, but these things take months to make and we don’t have months. We have hours.”

Barry continues with, “After I come out of there, I won’t remember the fact that I’m a lich at all. I won’t have any of my magic. I probably won’t know who you guys are. All I’ll have is a coin with prerecorded instructions on it to guide me. If we follow them, we’ll be successful. Get ready to head to the Bureau. You’re gonna get some answers. And, uh, fellas…” He gestures to the chest in the corner, saying the next part a little meekly. “Once I get in there, would you grab me a change of clothes? I’m gonna be naked as a jaybird when I come out.”

Magnus, Merle, and Taako all move towards the chest, but he stops with a, “No, no, not yet. I, uh… I just want to have a moment with Lup real quick.”

He gently grabs her by the hand and leads her off into the corner, far enough away that the others can’t hear them if they talk low. He takes her fingers in his, laces them together— skin against bone, fog against flesh— and lifts them up between them. He rubs his thumb across her knuckles, leaving a trail of pins and needles there. She wants to stay like this forever, wants him to stay a lich just so they can remember each other for a little bit longer, but he can’t and she won’t ask him to. There’s a plan in motion. She can’t interrupt it, no matter how badly she wants to revel in his company after her years of solitude. 

“Lup,” he says, his voice nearly a whisper, “I should tell you that I’m not going to remember you until everyone’s memories are restored.”   


She clicks her tongue. “I know.”

“I, uh— I know that’s gonna be difficult for you to see, especially so soon after finding each other, and I’m sorry. I really am. If I could find a different way, I’d do it in a heartbeat, but—”

“-- but there isn’t another way.” She tilts her head. Looks at him with soft eyes. “I get it.”

He offers her a smile, just barely visible in the ever-shifting fog of his flesh, but still there. She could tell his smile anywhere. “I hate forgetting you.”

“Aw.” She grins in return. “You know I’m unforgettable.”   


He snorts. “Yeah. Hey, just know that I’m gonna have the most  _ massive  _ crush on you when I get out of there.”

“I’ll reciprocate.”   


“Lup, it took me forty-seven years for me to even imagine you’d have feelings for me. Just-hatched Barry is going to be _ suffering.” _

“Aww. It’s only for a few hours, right?”   


Concern crosses his face. “Yeah. A few hours.”

She matches his expression without intending to, drawing her brow and pursing her lips as she says, “It’s going to work out, all right? No matter what happens, we’re going to be okay.”

The soft hint of a smile once again plays on the corners of his lips. “Yeah. Lucretia’s gonna be real surprised to see you.”

Oh. Uh.

“About that,” she says.

Barry cocks his head. _ “No.” _

“Yeah. I, um, paid a visit.”

“You paid her a visit?”   


“Yeah.”   


“And she knows you remember?”

“Mhm.”

“Lup, how are we going to hide you?”

Her brain suddenly freezes and then feels like it’s buffering. She did not think this far ahead. “Uh.” 

“Lup.”   


“I’ll figure it out as I go.”   


_ “Lup.” _

“I’ll be fine!” She waves a hand dismissively. “Plans always end up going south anyways. Best to think on my feet, you know?”

He sighs. “If you say so.”   


“Oh, come on, Barry. I’ll be okay. And I’ll be sure to protect your fragile flesh bod.”   


“Thanks.”   


“It’s a cute flesh bod.”   


“And my lich bod isn’t?”   


“All your bods are cute. You know this.”   


“You’re cute.”   


“I know.”   


He grins at her, the mist around his skull parting at his teeth. “One last kiss before I go?”

She grins back. “‘Course.”

Lup leans in and finds, once again, the sensation of pins and needles prickling at her lips, her mouth phasing through his, just a little. She missed him so much. Now, after he enters that pod, one of her worst fears is going to be realized.

Just a few hours, she reminds herself. Just a few hours. 

When they break apart, he gives her one last smile and heads for the pod. 

“Well,” he says, setting a stepping stool in front in anticipation of his new body’s inabilty to levitate, “get ready, you guys.”

He twists the wheel at the top, opening the hatch encasing his new body, and lowers himself into the bright green plasma below.

Magnus, Taako, and Merle finally open the chest in which his clothes reside.

A red glow surrounds the silhouette of Barry’s new body, growing in intensity with each passing second.

The three of them stare at the chest’s contents.

There’s the slightest fidget in Barry’s fingers, the slightest twitch in his feet. The light grows stronger.

Magnus reaches in.

Barry’s hand flexes. His leg kicks. The light grows stronger.

There’s the sound of fabric rustling. When Magnus at last grabs hold of what he’s looking for he pulls it out for everyone to admire. A pair of jeans.

The light reaches its peak. 

Barry’s eyes shoot open, filled with a deep shade of glowing crimson. 

He suddenly begins to squirm and writhe inside of the plasma, dragging with him chunks of it. He breaks free of the goo, grabs hold of the edges of the container, and pulls himself up. 

Magnus raises an accusatory finger and jabs it in his direction. “You’re Barry Bluejeans!”

-

Lup has decided she hates space travel.

Or, at least, she hates the Bureau of Balance mode of transportation. The Starblaster never made her feel so sick.

Perhaps it’s the fact that she hasn’t utilized any space travel in over a decade, or perhaps it’s her new non-lich body getting re-accustomed to things, but either way, Lup is about two minutes and a rough bump away from vomiting into Taako’s hat. She’s noticed, though that while she hunches herself next to the window, he’s giving her a side-eye and pulling his hat down tighter on his head. 

Maybe that myth about twins sharing thoughts is true after all.

“So,” says Kravitz, “what’s going on?”

She turns her head towards him, albeit slowly. If she moves the wrong way, her stomach might give. “Okay. So. There are these relics, right? Weapons of magical mass destruction.”

“I know. Miller’s lab. Also was almost killed by one.”   


“Right. Uh, right, Miller’s lab, Wonderland, right. Uh…” Her stomach gurgles. As it turns out, it’s really difficult to remember and relay important information when she wants to keel over. “Alright. My friend Lucretia. Their boss. She wants to gather up those relics so she can kill the apocalypse, but it’s not going to work.”   


“Sorry,” says Kravitz, “so she can kill the  _ apocalypse?” _ _   
_

“Why are you both speaking in static?” asks Merle. 

“You guys can hear that, too?” adds Barry, newly-fleshified. “I thought it was just me.”

Poor Barry. Just a few minutes ago, he was a lich who’d dedicated the past decade to this very moment. Now, he’s just confused. He does seem very flustered around her, though, which she finds incredibly adorable and which she will tease him about forever. Even now, when she is actively trying to keep her vomit down, he’s looking at her like he’s just found the most dazzling thing in the universe. 

Taako reaches over to pat him on the shoulder. “No, Bluejeans. Sometimes she opens her mouth and decides she wants to speak in white noise.” He shoots a glare at Kravitz. “Didn’t know that  _ he  _ could speak in white noise, either, but okay.”

“Shh, everyone, I’m trying to tell my buddy how to fuck up your organization. Hey, do they have doggie bags in this thing?”   


“No,” Magnus replies. “Avi said they were for wimps.”

“Fuck Avi,” she says. “Who’s Avi?”   


“Oh, you’d like him, actually,” he tells her. “Really chill guy.”   


“Ah. Sorry, Avi.” She returns her focus to Kravitz. “Anyways, we’ve gotta stop Lucretia, but first we gotta restore these chucklefuck’s memories. Barry’s coin is gonna help you out, but basically there’s this, uh— okay. There’s a jellyfish. No, wait, two jellyfish. And their juices have, like, memories in them—”   


Kravitz cuts her off with, “Okay. I’m gonna rifle around in here and see if I can’t find some kind of painkiller for you. Or— Merle, can you heal her?”   


“No, no, listen,” Lup says, “it’s just— it’s hard to explain, okay? And I’m not saying that to bullshit you, it’s legitimately extremely wild and I’d need, like, three and a half days to explain it in full. The most important thing is that there’s a cure for the memory curse I told you about and we have to get to it. The  _ problem  _ is that Lucretia doesn’t want us to have it yet, so we have to have a plan to take it from her, and we have to enact it before everything goes to shit.”

Kravitz nods, slow and careful. She can tell he’s trying to understand. “And what’s the plan?”

She purses her lips tight. Lup should have seen the question coming. And yet. “Okay, so I don’t exactly know—”

_ “What?” _ shouts Taako, gripping the armrest of his seat. “I’m risking my ass for you people and you don’t have a  _ plan?” _

_ “Barry _ has a plan,” she corrects. “Just trust him and his coin thing and you’ll be fine.”

Barry, who has been in a nervous sweat since the moment he stepped back into his flesh body, says, “What? How am I supposed to have a plan if I can’t understand half of what you’re saying?”

“Oh, no, babe, not you,” she tells him,  _ “past _ you. Don’t worry about it. Just listen to your coin.”

He flushes when she addresses him. Cute. 

“Did Past Barry say anything about how to hide Current Barry?” Kravitz asks. “Or me? Or you?”   


She sucks in a breath through her teeth. Maybe she  _ should  _ have thought this through a little more. 

“Barold can chill in my Pocket Spa,” Taako offers.

“Or my Pocket Workshop,” Magnus counters.

“Your Pocket Workshop has held, like, 3 different boys in the past twenty four hours and one of them was a severed head. I think it needs a break.”

“But 3 different boys and a woman were in your Pocket Spa earlier.”   


“Yeah, okay, but my Pocket Spa is a paragon of relaxation and you used your Pocket Workshop to hide a couple of dead bodies, so…”   


“They weren’t dead when I put them there!”

“Okay. Alright. Let’s turn the polls over to Barold.” He shifts his attention to Barry, who looks as if he very much does not want attention right now. “Barry, do you wanna chill in a spa with unlimited cucumber sandwiches or do you want to sit in a room that smells like dead guys and cedar?”

“They weren’t dead!” Magnus reiterates.

Barry looks in between the two of them. “Uh,” he mumbles, “I think I’ll take my chances with the Pocket Spa.”   


“That’s my man,” he says. 

Kravitz interrupts their conversation with, “Alright, that’s figured out. How do we explain Magnus’s mannequin problem?”   


“He’s our wooden servant,” Merle provides, almost immediately.

Magnus swivels his head towards him and although he has no face, he somehow manages to look offended. “You came up with that way too fast.”   


“I’m just sayin’. We can say Taako magicked you alive to pick up the Bell after the real Magnus died in a horrible, horrible battle between some liches.”   


“I don’t like how you had this explanation ready.”   


“What can I say?” Merle shrugs. “I’m a planner.”

“You showed up to the office Candlenights party half an hour late in your pajamas and then went, ‘Oh, wait, is that today?’ and then disappeared for another half an hour before showing up in the same pajamas, but with a tie.”

“Taako wore pajamas, too!”   


“That was a sophisticated robe,” Taako says. 

“It was a Snuggie,” Magnus argues. “A Snuggie with Fantasy Spongebob printed on it.”

“Okay, I didn’t know we were playing the fuckin’ Dunk On Taako For His Superior Wardrobe Choices game, Mr. Sleeveless-Candlenights-Sweater.”

“It was too warm!”   


“That’s the point of sweaters, dipshit.”

“Great, okay, you all have terrific fashion sense, moving on,” Kravitz says, effectively cutting them off. “How do we explain me?”   


All three of them quiet down and share a look, followed by silent contemplation. Kravitz, in turn, shoots a look towards Lup, as if to say,  _ This is how we stop the apocalypse? _

Magnus, drumming on the arm of his seat, says, “Maybe you… have to settle my debt death-wise?”

“We don’t have, like, a payment plan. You’d just go to the Stockade.”

“The Director doesn’t know that.”

“Well, yeah, but— What would I be doing there? Asking your buddies if they wanna pay 99 gold a month to settle your death debt?”   


“Oh, Maggie, I can’t do 99 a month,” Merle tells him.

“I was being sarcastic—”

Magnus cuts him off with, “Uh, yes you can, old man, we get paid thousands for fucking around on the moon.”   


“It’s not a real—” Kravitz tries again.

This time, it’s Taako who interjects himself into the conversation with, “Yeah, I’m not paying 99 a month for your death debt, either. That’s Taako’s cash.”

“You’re saying you wouldn’t pay 99 a month out of the thousands we make by literally doing nothing for twelve weeks at a time so I could have a nice, debt-free afterlife?” Magnus asks.

Taako shrugs. “Yeah.”

“You guys both suck,” Magnus tells them.

“I am not going to charge you guys 99 a month after you die,” Kravitz reiterates. 

“It’s the principle,” grumbles Magnus, crossing his arms. 

“It’s not real. You are not going to pay money to work off your Hell debt.”

“Yeah, but if I did—”   


“Moving on,” Kravitz interrupts, clasping his hands together. “Lup, what about you?”

None of them are going to like this. And yet.

Bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught of shouting, she tells them, “I’m gonna wing it.”

For a moment, there’s only a heavy silence. And then Kravitz asks, “You’re gonna what?”   


“I’m gonna wing it,” she repeats. 

Before anyone can start yelling, the pod they’re in abruptly lurches as they come to halt within the Bureau of Balance hangar. The doors automatically hiss open, revealing their whole group from any prying eyes.

“Fuck,” she says.

While Taako rummages around in his many pockets for his Pocket Spa, Lup focuses on the distant click of shoes on tile. She has to go and she has to go now.

Lup removes herself from her seat, crouches, pokes her head outside of the lifted doors, and rolls towards a particularly large potted houseplant. It’s in these moments that she kind of wishes she listened to Davenport when he tried to teach her Invisibility. 

From inside the pod, Kravitz looks at her as if to say,  _ What the fuck? _ _   
_ _ You’re gonna have to go without me _ , she mouths.

He cocks an eyebrow. _ What? _ he asks.

_ You’re gonna have to go without me, _ she mouths once more, slower this time.

He’s silent, and then,  _ You have to pee? _

Jesus Christ.

Frantic, Taako finally produces the Pocket Spa from his cloak and furiously jabs a finger towards it. As he does, he mouths, _ Free hiding spot, dumbass! _

Oh.    


Oh, no.

She could have just chilled in a jacuzzi with Barry and ate cucumber sandwiches. She didn’t have to leave the pod. In trying to find a plan to conceal her presence, she’s just complicated things ten thousand times more.

Lup watches in silence as a man runs up to the pod, and, out of breath, leans against its walls. By some stroke of luck, he’s just narrowly missed seeing Barry crawling into Taako’s Pocket Spa. “You’re— You’re back!” he wheezes, then turns towards the hallway and yells with any remaining lung capacity, “You guys! They’re back!”   


And now he’s summoning more people. Fantastic.

He continues with, “Where— where have you guys been? We lost contact with you, we— we thought you died—”   


“Well,” Taako interjects, much too nonchalant for someone whose friend has just perished in a terrible accident, “you’re one third right.”

The man freezes as he finally seems to notice Magnus’s absence. “Where’s Magnus? Who’s— who’s that guy?”

“Health inspector,” Merle replies at the same time Taako answers, “The Grim Reaper.” 

They both glare at one another. Kravitz sits still and says nothing. 

“Um. Okay.” The man ducks his head inside the pod, scanning it. “And Magnus?”

“Oh, yeah, he died,” Taako replies. 

“We died, too, but we got better,” Merle adds.

“Yeah. Magnus didn’t, though.”   


“No, he just died.”   


“Yeah.”

They really need to start breaking out the waterworks soon. Otherwise, people are going to start thinking they murdered him.

The man trips over his words and is about to formulate a sentence when the doors to the hangar burst open, revealing a distraught dragonborn woman and a concerned orc woman. They’re the same people she saw in the Miller’s lab, she thinks. They’re going to recognize her if she doesn’t get out of here now. 

Luckily, all attention turns towards the two of them. This is Lup’s chance to escape.

Staying low to the ground, she sprints across the floor as quietly as she can, hiding behind beams and equipment and unused pods. She maneuvers around the environment as quickly and as quietly as she’s able to, which is fairly stealthily— her upbringing has allowed her to master the art of sneaking around. The hangar doors are closed when she nears them, but if she’s silent enough, then…

She peeks her head over a beam and catches a glimpse of the rest of their party. Kravitz is shooting her a concerned look from where he sits with tensed shoulders. His stare is pleading her to come back, to somehow find a way to rejoin them after she’s already royally fucked up. But she can’t. She’ll rejoin them later— for now, she has to focus on not getting caught.

She offers up a small wave of her hand. He deflates.

Lup darts towards the hangar doors and, watching the movements of the people behind her, slowly, slowly opens them. Luckily, their backs are turned and they don’t notice her. She breathes a sigh of relief. She’s okay. She’s going to be okay.

Lup opens the door just wide enough for her to fit through. She can do this. She’s going to do this and she’s not going to be caught and she’s going to be safe.

Taking one last look at the people behind her, she darts out of the hangar, and—

and nobody hears her leave, nobody catches any glimpse of her, nobody seems to notice the soft clicking of the doors closing, and she is okay. She is safe. She’s going to make it.

She allows herself to smile, to take a deep breath, to—

“Hello, miss!”   


“Jesus Christ!” she yelps, leaping backwards, clinging against the door. 

In front of her is a little boy, no older than eleven, beaming up at her with a bright smile and brighter eyes. He’s sporting a sweater vest, dress pants, and what might be the littlest pair of oxfords she’s ever seen a person wear. There’s a cap on his head in which he’s stuck a feather and large round glasses sitting atop his nose.  _ Nerd, _ she thinks, and then,  _ it’s probably not nice to call a baby a nerd, _ and then, _ this is the nerdiest baby I’ve ever seen. _

She catches her breath, offers up a nervous laugh, and says, “Hi. You, uh, scared me there a lil’ bit, kid.”

“My apologies, ma’am! I meant no harm. I just wanted to say hello!” He cocks his head. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

Aw, shit. She gets caught by a kid and it turns out to be a smart one. Just her luck. “I’m new here. Just, uh, checkin’ out the place, seein’ the sights. Not super familiar with the base, is all. You wanna show me where the bathrooms are?”

He glances down at her wrist. “Where’s your bracer?”

Shit. “Still waiting on getting inoculated. The Director’s busy. You know how it is.”

“I do know how it is! I also happen to know that because Madame Director is so busy, she usually directs new recruits to Johann for inoculation.” 

“Oh— Oh, uh, yeah! Johann.” Who the fuck is Johann again? A name she vaguely remembers— the emo dude, maybe? “Yeah. Okay. Sorry, forgot his name! Boss told me how to get there, but I can’t remember what she said. Can you remind me how to get to the, um, Voidfish juices, kid?”

“Of course, ma’am!” He steps a little closer to her, the heels of his shoes clicking on the tile. “As soon as  _ you  _ tell me how an uninoculated individual could know about the Voidfish!”

She freezes. Shit.

“I— uh, I—”   


“Or why you were just leaving the hangar despite being here long enough to have met Madame Director.”   


“Um—”   


“Or maybe you could explain to me how the Bureau has received a new recruit when the organization currently isn’t recruiting?”

She takes a deep breath. Purses her lips. And then, in a tone that indicates she doesn’t believe even herself, she says, “I’m… just here to sell Avon?”

He giggles. “Ma’am, I’m the world’s greatest detective! You’re going to have to come up with a better lie than that! Tell me,” he says, the look in his eyes almost sinister, “why are you  _ really  _ here?”

Well. She made it a whole fifteen seconds without any trouble. Not too bad, given what she had to work with or lack thereof. Besides, this kid seems like a walking security camera. She doesn’t think she would have lasted long anyways.

“I’m stopping an apocalypse that this organization started,” she tells him. “And I need to stop it now.”   


He looks her up and down. “And why should I believe you?”

“You don’t have any reason to. You could turn me in right now.” She shrugs. “But you’re a smart kid and I know you’ve got questions that you can’t seem to articulate. I have the answers.”

For a moment, he stands in silence, contemplating, staring. And then his face breaks out into a grin as he sticks out a hand for her to shake. “Angus McDonald, boy detective!”

Oh. So this kid is a  _ dork  _ dork.

She takes his hand and shakes it. “Lup. No last name. Hey, are you the kid from the train?”

“Which train, Miss?”

“The, um…” She snaps her fingers, trying to remember. “The Rockville? Rockstop? Rock—”   


“The Rockport Limited!” he exclaims. “One of my favorite cases, if only because it’s the reason I’m here! I don’t remember you though, ma’am.”   


Right. Because she was in an umbrella. She’s really got to start thinking before she speaks. “Uh, yeah,” she says. “Um, I’ll explain that later. Consider that part of the answers you’re gonna get.”   


“That’s very ominous, Miss!”

“Yeah. Well.” She cranes her head and strains her ears to determine if anyone’s coming. They’re safe for now. Maybe. “Hey, kid, about those answers: I’m gonna need just a little help from you.”   


“What kind of help?”   


She takes a breath. “Listen, I’ve really gotta avoid Lucretia— uh, Madame Director. You’re gonna have to promise me to not tell her I’m here, alright?”

Angus furrows his brow. “But why, Miss?”

“I…” She shifts her gaze away from him. “... can’t talk about it yet.”

“Oh, I get it!” He perks up almost instantly. “This about how you tagged onto a mission without the Director’s knowledge!”

“What—?”   


“Or— no, is this about how Magnus is a mannequin?”   


“How did you know about that? You haven’t even seen him yet!”

“I’m very good at sleuthing, ma’am!” he tells her, grin wide as he pushes his glasses farther up his nose. “Also, I can hear every word they’re saying in there!”

It’s her who furrows her brow this time. She changes her focus to the noise around her. There is, in fact, muffled conversation behind the hangar doors, amplified by the room’s echo. “Huh.”

“Don’t worry, ma’am! I won’t tell anyone!”   
She breaks her attention from the conversation and turns back to him, breathing a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God—”

“As long as you give me some answers!”

Of course. “Oh, you little shit.”

Angus ignores her, instead holding up a hand and listing of questions as he goes. Dropping one finger down, he asks, as rapidly as possible, “What are you looking for?”   
“Uh—”

“Better hurry, Miss Lup, I hear someone coming!”

Shit, shit, shit. “I need, uh, I need to find the Voidfish.”

Another finger down. “Why did you go on that mission to the Felicity Wilds?”

“To help out.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re important to me.”   


“Why?”

“Move on, kid!”

Another finger. “Why were you silent for days?”   


“We were—” She sighs. “We were hiding out with what you guys call the Red Robe.”

“Why would you do that for?”   


“Uh, information? Also, he’s, um… not evil.”

He shrugs. “Okay.” Another finger. “Why is Magnus a mannequin?”   


“I destroyed his body.”   


“You are giving me a lot of reasons not to trust you, ma’am!”   


“It was an accident! And it was mostly a lich’s fault! I’m just the one who made her mad! I—”

Another finger. “Why are you betraying the Director?”   


“I’m not!”   


“You’re not allowed on the base and you can’t let her see you, Miss. Sounds like a betrayal plan.”   


“I’m not trying to—” She huffs. Lup supposes it’s a little true, at least. “Okay, the Director made some bad decisions and I’m trying to reverse them, is all.”   


He drops the hand he was holding up to his side. “Finally,” he asks, “Why do you look like Taako?”

Here it is. The question she was anticipating. 

“That’s going to have to be an answer you get later, little dude,” she tells him.

“I’m going to need it now, actually.”   


“But—”   


“You better hurry, miss, I think they’re wrapping up their conversation in there.”

“Not even Taako knows, okay?”

He sighs. Shrugs. “Okay. Fine.”

And then there’s silence. 

“Uh,” she says. “Weren’t you gonna, like, get us out of here?”   


“Oh, there was nobody coming,” he replies. “I just wanted answers, ma’am. My apologies.”

Oh, this kid is good. She can’t believe she got tricked by him. Those years on the umbrella have rusted her skills, one of which is knowing a liar when she sees one.

He takes her silence as a response, and instead decides to continue talking as he polishes his glasses with the fabric of his shirt. “Well, ma’am, I believe you, but I don’t think I trust you. Don’t worry, though. I won’t tell!”   


She blinks in disbelief. Once. Twice. “Really?”

“Of course! If Magnus, Merle, and Taako trust you, I’m sure there's a good reason! Also, snitches get stitches!”   


Ah. So Taako has already worked his influence. “You’re damn right.”

He smiles at her, bright and happy, despite the ongoing disaster. “Anything I can do, Miss?”

She feels the cogs in her brains turning. Somehow, she’s just gotten herself a useful ally. Somehow, this just might work.

“Hey, kid,” she asks, “how well do you know the Director’s schedule?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lup is definitely going to use all the clone-goop later to make a dessert. it will not taste good  
> anyways hey everybody!!! how are you!!! i hope you're well!!!!! the time change has me very messed up. its pitch black at 5pm. i dont like that! personally i just think we should all change our sleep schedules to reflect this change. im going to start going to sleep at 7pm and waking up at 3am out of spite  
> i hope you all liked meeting angus!!! what a good little dude. i have been waiting to put a little angus in this fic. as a treat!!! just a lil angus. as a treat  
> thank you for reading!!!! please go vote tomorrow if you're able to and you haven't already!!!   
> NEXT CHAPTER: angus and lup hatch a plan!  
> tumblr: nillial


	19. Split Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay first of all i apologize for the long wait and i will explain in the end notes. for now HERE'S A RECAP!!:  
> \- lup, krav, merle, and taako all visited barry's hideout!  
> \- krav and barry had a bonding moment  
> \- barry got back into his body but cant remember anything :(  
> \- they all traveled to the bureau of balance base with the intention of breaking into lucretia's office  
> \- to avoid suspicion, barry is hiding in the pocket spa  
> \- magnus is a mannequin so they're going to convince everyone he's dead :/ just for a little bit tho he'll get better  
> \- lup did not come up with a plan, panicked, and split off from the group. taako was like YOU COULD HAVE HIDDEN IN THE POCKET SPA and lup felt very dumb.  
> \- lup recruited angus to help her out!!!! he's very excited to sleuth 
> 
> okay!!!! enjoy the chapter!!!!

Magnus is without a body, without a voice, and without a purpose. 

As a result, he is pissed.

He can’t be too mad at Lup for the situation that’s unraveled, really— at the end of the day, she only wanted to protect them. He just wishes she had realized that roasting a lich out of his body was an ineffective method of doing so. And now, because of them, because of her, he’s stuck inside a mannequin and he has no idea when or if he’s going to get out. He is, essentially, already dead. 

Nevermind. He  _ is  _ mad at Lup.

Had things gone differently, and had she not hidden secrets from them, he thinks they would have been great friends. Unfortunately, Magnus thinks as he takes wobbly steps in feet unfamiliar to him, the joints of his form creaking as he rises out of the pod, he’s too angry to entertain the idea of a friendship.

Maybe the Red Robe is right. Maybe he shouldn’t be so harsh on Lup. Maybe she really does care about him, for whatever reason. 

He nearly trips over the steps leading out of the pod and, for a moment, feels as if his knee is going to pop off his leg. 

He takes a deep breath and comes to a conclusion: if he can get a new body, then he will befriend Lup. If he can’t, then— Well. He really hopes he can.

He stands silently next to Taako and Merle, as he’s been instructed to do. They’re bombarded with questions from their peers—  _ Where were you? Are you okay? What happened to your Stones? Who’s the new guy? _ all of which the two of them answer with little help needed. He watches Lup duck behind pillars and machinery with little effort. She and Carey would get along. They could do some rogue training together. He’s sure they’d both like it.

There’s a pang of guilt in his chest where his heart used to be. Carey.

How is he going to explain this to Carey?

As if in response to his question, the doors burst open just as Lup is about to slip outside. There, in the doorway, he sees them— Killian, her eyes wide, her brow furrowed in concern, accompanied by Carey, who is already running towards the ship they've arrived in. 

Carey skids to a halt in front of the pod. He watches as her eyes dart across their surroundings, growing increasingly desperate when she realizes who’s missing. Her breathing becomes heavier. Her hands ball into fists, then outstretch, then become fists again. There’s a kind of fear he’s never seen on her face before until this moment— a kind of fear he hopes to never see again.

“Where’s Magnus?” she rasps out.

Taako and Merle share a look.

Carey’s eyes widen. Her shoulders begin to shake. Magnus is forced to watch as his best friend comes to the slow realization that he’s dead. 

As if to confirm her suspicions— or to solidify something she already knows, to drive the point into the ground like a chisel into stone, no hope for reversal, no hope for a shift of tides, no hope for anything different, anything better— Taako tells her, “He didn’t make it.”

She purses her lips, and Magnus knows she’s trying not to cry. Not here.

He stands and watches her eyes become wet, filling with tears, threatening to overflow, watches as she folds in on herself, watches as it slowly dawns on her that her fears are a reality. He can’t do anything. His best friend believes he’s dead and he can’t do anything. He wants to. He wants so desperately to grab her by the shoulders, to yell that he’s here, he’s here, he’s okay, Carey, he’s fine, but he can’t. All he can do is watch.

As Merle pretends to cry— he appreciates the effort, at least— he spots Lup slipping out of the door. She’s gone. They’ve accomplished their distraction. He wants to go, get this over with as quickly as possible, and finally, finally let Carey know he’s okay.

Unfortunately, he comes to the conclusion that that’s not going to happen. Killian, gripping Carey’s shoulder, asks, “What happened?”   
Another shared look between Taako and Merle. “Um, he, uh, died. Heroically. In battle,” Taako tells them. “Between some liches. Boy, they got ‘im good.”

Yet another downside to being trapped in a mannequin body and being, for all intents and purposes, a ghost: not being able to thump Taako upside the head for describing his death to his best friend with the words “Boy, they got ‘im good.”

“Oh, it was amazing,” Merle adds.

“Whole body. Gone.”   


“Ash.”   


“Couldn’t bring him back.”

“Nope.”   


“Well, you know, in retrospect, actually, we could have brought him back. We have, like, a Grim Reaper here.”

“Maybe.”   


“There wasn’t a lot to pick up.”   


“We didn’t really try.”   


“Should’ve swept him up.”   


“Yeah.”   


“I regret this now.” Taako, at this point, seems to suddenly remember that he’s supposed to be upset about Magnus’s death, and abruptly feigns being choked up. “We could’ve scattered his ashes somewhere beautiful. He would have liked that.”   


Carey makes a strained sound in the back of her throat that is obviously a sob she’s attempting to suppress. Magnus wants to reach out, hug her— but he’s stuck in this stupid mannequin, essentially a ghost waiting to watch his own funeral. 

Davenport enters from the side door, followed by Lucretia. They’re not as discreet as Lup was when exiting out the main doors, instead letting the door swing shut behind them, the noise echoing throughout the hangar. All heads turns towards them.    


Davenport clears his throat. Holds up a satin pillow, ready to take the relic away. “Dav— Davenport. Davenport.”

Killian runs a hand through her hair. “Oh. Yeah. Okay, you guys get that sorted out, and then we can, like, figure out a funeral? I guess that’s what’s next?”

“Yeah,” says Taako. “I guess in lieu of a body we can shoot his belongings into space?”   


Kravitz, who has been standing rigidly beside Magnus the whole time, too nervous to comment, takes the opportunity to say,  _ “Jesus.” _

Davenport approaches, holding the pillow out to them, waiting for the relic. 

“Oh, right. I’ve repurposed ol’ Woody here to be our relic carrier.” He reaches out to pat his arm, but stops, instead hovering a couple inches away once he remembers the no-touching rule. “Woody?”

Magnus reaches into his bag, digs around, and produces the Bell, gently setting it upon the pillow. He hopes that this isn’t a mistake.

Killian takes a deep breath. “Well, um— I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go. Let’s, um— let’s just get out of here, Carey, okay?”

Carey, still trying to hold back her tears, spares them one last look before leaving the same way Davenport came. Going to discuss funeral plans with Lucretia, maybe. His best friend. Planning his funeral.

This fucking sucks. He hates that he’s doing this to her. 

Avi raises a flask. “To Magnus.”

“Oh, yeah, hold on.” Taako opens one side of his cloak, searching through each pocket until he finds the one he wants, which, evidently, is the yogurt pocket. He scoops up a handful. “To Magnus.”

Magnus glances over at Kravitz, who seems largely unaffected. He, as it seems, has already become desensitized to Taako’s pocket snacks. 

Merle reaches over, digs around in Magnus’s pack, and pulls out some of the beef jerky he brought along. “To Magnus.”   


He knows he can’t speak to anybody, but he sure does think  _ Fuck you, old man _ really hard. 

“Yeah, uh, to Magnus,” Kravitz says. “Was that your boss just now? Your, uh, Director?”

“Oh, no, that was Davenport. He’s cool. The Director is the one who pays us, which, uh, I don’t know about you, fellas, but I’m feelin’ prett-y-y-y light in the wallet right now.” Taako waves a hand dismissively. “Rest in peace, Mags, you were a great dude, you owe me three gold, whatever. Anyways, let’s go pay a visit to Madame Director.”

-

From behind the wall, she hears footstep after footstep and the opening closing of doors. Each sound gives her something new to fear. 

She really wishes Angus would hurry up.

Lup watches him scribble something down on a sheet of paper from his pocket notebook, his pen scratching against its surface. He mumbles something to himself that she can’t quite discern— something something office, something something chambers, something something Fantasy Costco— until finally he quits writing and stashes the pen away in his pocket. “Okay,” he says. “I think I know where she’s going to be today.”

Lup sighs in relief. Finally, finally they can go. She reaches for the notebook. “Thanks—”   


Angus pulls it away from her, rearing back from her hand. “No, not yet,” he tells her. “You have to promise me something first.”

Of course. Because nothing is ever easy.

She sighs once again, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “Yeah?”   


He levels her with a rather serious glare. It’s not very intimidating, given that he’s an infant, but she appreciates the gesture. “I need you to promise me you won’t hurt Madame Director.”   


That takes her aback. She furrows her brow and tenses, her whole body going rigid. “What?”   


“You want to destroy her operation, ma’am, and you wanted her schedule, too. I don’t think it’s a crude observation to say you want to kill her!”

In his voice, it sounds like a joke. In anyone’s voice, really, it would sound like a joke. Lup would never think of hurting Lucretia. But here, she supposes— where they’re both fighting for different things, where nobody has heard of their century long buildup of friendship— it’s a reasonable conclusion.

She shakes her head, and, once she gets over the shock, replies, “No.”

Angus narrows his eyes, then shrugs. “Alright, ma’am. I’ll trust you. But know that if you do hurt Madame Director, I will be very upset!”   


“I’d be upset, too, bud.”   


“And I might kill you as well!”   


“Okay.”   


“I have a crossbow and powerful magics!”

“That— aren’t you, like, a baby? How did you get any of those things?”   


“Taako!”

She sighs. “Yeah, alright. What’s the verdict on Madame Director’s schedule?”

He, at last, hands her the notebook he’s been scrawling in. She flips the pages until she finds the one he’s last written on. It’s a mess of ink and scribbles. “She should be in the relic room, destroying the artifact you’ve just given her. In a few minutes, she’ll be talking to Merle and Taako. After that, she’ll roam the grounds, check everything out, stop and talk to Avi or Johann for a little bit, and then return to her office for some work. This is also her cheat day for her new paleo diet, so she’s gonna be in Fantasy Costco a little bit before suppertime to get some chips and snack cakes.”   


“Lucretia’s doing paleo?”   


“Yes, ma’am. She seems like she hates it, though.”   


“Why is she doing it, then?”   


He shrugs. “She says Fantasy Jessica Biel loves it.”

“Okay. Well.” She peers behind him, just beyond the corner of the wall. No one is there, thankfully. “We need to get to her office and we have to do it without being noticed by anyone, including her. Any idea on how we’re gonna do that?”

Angus furrows his brow in concentration, tapping his chin as he thinks. It only takes him a few seconds for his face to brighten with the joy of a new idea. “I think I’ve got it!”

“Yeah?” she asks. “And what is it?”   


He turns back to her with a smile plastered across his face. “Ma’am, do you know Disguise Self?”

-

Kravitz is uncomfortable.

The Bureau is empty and quiet. The quad, which was full of people chatting and running around when he last visited is now deserted. Most of the lights in the shops and restaurants are dimmed, no signs of life emanating from inside them, no faint laughter or faces through the window. It doesn’t help that the sky is a murky gray, casting a shadow on everything below it, making the vibrant grass appear dull, the buildings drab, the expanse of the Bureau small. And it’s  _ noon _ . It should be bustling with employees, filled with the noise of chatter, but it’s empty. It’s all empty.

He nudges Taako. “Is everyone asleep or something? Like, is this a designated Nap Day?”   


“Man, if it’s Nap Day and I missed it, I’m gonna be so pissed,” he replies.

“I bought special pajamas,” Merle boasts.

Kravitz was kidding. He did not know the Bureau did a Nap Day. He chooses not to relay his shock to the rest of them for fear of going off topic.

“Why is no one here?” Kravitz asks.

Taako looks around, gazing upon the barren quad before them. “Uh, I don’t know. The weather?”

They come to an abrupt halt at the doors of a rather large convenience store. A bright red LED sign proclaims the location they’ve just arrived at. FANTASY COSTCO.

He draws his brow. “I thought we were going to visit the Director.”   


“We are,” Taako says. “This was on the way.”

Before Kravitz can protest further, Taako pushes the double doors open. The Fantasy Costco jingle sounds from above them as they step inside. Kravitz is not quite sure where it’s coming from. 

Fantasy Costco is all but empty, its shelves barren. There are sealed bags and crates piled next to the counter and at the ends of hallways, all ready to be shipped elsewhere. In the middle of it is a three foot tall tabby cat, sealing the final boxes, cloaked in deep purple robes, a wizard hat atop his head the size of which rivals even Taako’s. He glances over to Taako. He grimaces and pulls his own wizard hat farther down his head. 

Kravitz pats him on the shoulder. “His hat is stupid anyway,” he whispers.

He mumbles something along the lines of, “Yeah, I guess.”

The cat finally seems to notice them. He glances up, shoos them off with a paw, and tells them in a voice Kravitz can only describe as wrong, “Oh, uh, we’re closed. Thank you for coming to Fantasy Costco, though. Uh,  _ Fantasy Costco, where all your dreams come true, got a deal for you, _ see you later.

Taako lifts a hand. “Hold on just a second, kemosabe.”

“The sign says you’re open 24 hours,” says Merle, pointing to a sign that indeed says Open 24 Hours.

“Well,” says the cat, “the sign doesn’t really account for the apocalypse, so… Gotta hit the road.”   


“What?” asks Taako. “What— hold on, Garfield, what’s happening?”

The cat— Garfield— gestures to the storm brewing outside. “Just look at what’s going on out there! I’m not sure what it is, but it’s about to pop off in a pretty bad way! I can feel it in my bones! The bones I use for scrying!”

“Is that— is that necromantic?” Kravitz asks.

“My scrying bones? Oh, I don’t think so. I don’t do necromancy.”   


“Okay—”   


“I do something much worse.”

“Hmm.” He makes a mental note to scope out this guy’s deal.

“Besides,” Garfield continues, “I’ve been humiliated. Taako, you bested me in a contest of mercantile wits! I can never show my face here again! I’ve got to start a new life! With no deals! I will no longer go by Garfield the Deals Warlock. I’m just going to be Garfield. Garfield the  _ Nothing  _ Warlock.”

Taako holds out his palms in front of him. “Okay. Okay. Just a mome, Garfield. I just— I need a little bit of Magnus’s blood from you.”

At the same time Garfield’s ears perk up, Kravitz swivels around to face him.  _ “What?” _

He nudges his shoulder and shoots him a look that Kravitz cannot quite determine the meaning of. “Magnus died,” he explains, “and we just… need something to remember him by.”   


If he does something necromantic with this, Kravitz  _ will  _ be making him read one of the  _ Death Crimes: It’s Just Not Cool! _ pamphlets they have on the Astral Plane’s front desk.

A grin spreads across Garfield’s face, showing each and every tooth, all of which seem sharp enough to draw blood. It seems like cats don’t typically have as many teeth as Garfield does. “What will you give me for it?”   


“Um…” Taako gives Merle a look, begging for help.

Merle seems to get the memo this time. He begins to sniffle, rubbing at his eyes with his finger. In a wavering voice, he says, “You didn’t even react to the fact that Magnus is dead.” He adds a choked sob, just for acting’s sake. “How about you cut as a break, you big jerk.”   


Taako, too, joins in, placing a hand on his forehead and wiping at nonexistent tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I— I just need a minute, guys.”

He ducks out of Fantasy Costco’s doors, all but sprinting for the side of the building. 

Kravitz feels like he’s just been left alone at a party with a bunch of strangers except much worse, because instead of a party, it’s two other people and a mannequin with a soul trapped inside of it. 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and pretends he’s examining the empty shelves. He doesn’t know what he’s pretending to look at, exactly, but he sure is watching it intensely. 

“What was your name?” asks Garfield. 

Kravitz, who was hoping Merle and Garfield would have a conversation amongst themselves, points to himself. “Me?”

“That’s Kyle,” Merle tells him.

“Kravitz,” he corrects.

He turns his gaze towards him, confusion clear on his face. “No, I’m Merle. Where’d you get Kravitz from?”   
Garfield interrupts with, “Now, Kyle—”   


“It’s Kravitz—”   


“Who’s Kravitz?” asks Merle.

“If you want, we can strike up a deal, too. What do you say to an Olive Garden Pasta Pass for, uh, maybe a little of that white hair there?”

“Oh, the white hair isn’t technically real. None of my outward appearance is. It’s a projection.”

Garfield shrugs. “Okay. Whatever you want to tell yourself.”   


Kravitz is about to ask what the fuck he means when the Fantasy Costco jingle once again sounds from above the door. Taako strides in, holding in his palms the sickest sword he’s ever seen. The blade is coated in a bright neon green liquid, which drips onto the floor, evaporating the moment it hits the tile, hissing as it does. It’s cloaked in a flame that does not seem to die, a flame that should burn the blade beneath it but somehow stays just above it, it’s light flickering across Taako’s face. 

“Alright, Garfield,” he says, although Kravitz notices the hint of a shit-eating grin playing on his lips, “you win. Here’s the Flaming Raging Poisoning Sword of Doom.”

Garfield’s eyes light up. He snatches it out of his hands before anyone has a chance to argue, then hugs it tight to his chest. The fur on his cheek singes a little, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “My sweet,” he says, “my precious love.”   


Taako clears his throat. “My dead friend’s blood?”

Garfield waves a hand in an attempt to shoo him off. “Yeah, yeah, back room.”

“Sweet.” Taako makes a sweeping gesture towards the doorway leading into the Employees Only section of the Fantasy Costco. “Mannequin?”   


Magnus balls his fists and all but stomps towards the back room. Kravitz follows, trailing behind Merle. He folds his arms as he walks by, pretending he’s keeping away a nonexistent chill, but really he’s just nervous. He thinks he wants to go home. Or, at least, someplace like home. The home he used to have before shit went south and he drowned in apocalypse juice.

Taako is the first to push the doors open. He, of course, does not hold the door for anyone else, but instead leaves everyone to dart through in the small window of time before the door closes shut. The back room is dark— much too dark for a back room. He should be able to see something, anything, but he feels as if his eyes have been covered by a black satin carpet. He tries to blink it away, although he isn’t sure what good it will do him. It doesn’t work, of course. Nothing is ever so easy.

He hears a click, adjusts his eyes to the light, and sees Taako, standing next to the lightswitch. 

Well. Maybe some things are easy. 

The room is lit by bright fluorescent lights, the contrast nearly blinding him. He blinks, once, twice, until his eyes finally adjust. He opens his eyes to take in his first glance of the room.

And he keeps them open.

He was expecting boxes.

The Fantasy Costco back room is something of a necromantic cesspool. It has no windows, only cold cinder block walls, and is illuminated solely by the ceiling lights, which are somehow both overwhelming and not strong enough. The walls remain dimly lit and the long shadows their bodies cast across the room, yet the center is blindingly bright. In that center are fold out tables, all shoved haphazardly beside one another, each holding an array of personal items from people he doesn’t know. Garfield has evidently labeled what belongs to who by sticking a strip of tape with a name scrawled on it under each pile of belongings. Upon further inspection, he sees a tattered cape, a sword, and skin flakes belonging to a Harriet, a boot, a comb, and a vial of saliva owned by a Jason, a dagger and a dragon scale donated by a Carey (which is troubling— he does not want to have the conversation with the lady who cried over Magnus in the hangar that she has given her DNA to a necromancer). Then there is, of course, the axe, the shield, the blood, the hair, all belonging to Magnus. Lining the walls of the room is what it’s used for. 

In one big row are pods with neon green liquid inside them, not at all dissimilar to the one Barry had in his hideout. In it float half-formed clones, silhouettes of eggs, of humans. The most eye-catching is the clone at the very end— a tube containing a heavyset, broad shouldered man curled in fetal position, his silhouette obscuring most of his features, but his bushy sideburns are unmistakably Magnus’s. 

Kravitz sighs. “You guys promised you wouldn’t do necromancy,” he says, but he’s already resigned himself to this reality.

Magnus defends himself with, “I didn’t even know this was back here!”

“Right,” he says, narrowing his eyes, “Another accidental incident of necromancy. How many times have you done that again?”

Magnus mumbles something about  _ not my fault, _ until he’s at last done with his rant, at which point he stomps towards the tube and places a hand on its surface. After a few moment’s silence, he says, voice firm, “I’m getting my body back.”   


“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” says Merle, “are you sure you wanna do this?”

He doesn’t look back at him when he speaks— just stares at the body inside. “I have to. I need to.”   


“Okay, alright, think this through for a second,” Taako tells him. “You don’t know what will happen when you step in there. Barry Bluejeans just told us he loses all of his memories when he gets a new body. Is that what you want?”

“I want my _ body,” _ Magnus says, louder this time. “You guys don’t get it. I— I can’t breathe, I can’t feel, my heart doesn’t beat— and that’s me. In there, that’s me. That’s my second chance. That’s my body. Those…” He presses a single wooden finger against the glass. “... Those are the arms that have held my wife.”

“You’re already dead!” Merle says. “That guy is going to have to take you in when this is all done and over with! Do you want to spend your last moments with no memory?”

Magnus turns towards Kravitz, hoping, but not expecting, for him to say something, anything in his defense. And Kravitz… 

Kravitz is  _ not  _ going to take Magnus in.

Magnus has been pardoned from his death crimes about a million times. He’s died and walked around in a body that was never his own. He’s about to use a clone as a new vessel for his soul. According to Her Law, he should be taken in to be judged by the Raven Queen in order to determine if he will be allowed to stay in the realm of the living or instead transported to the Sea, or, worse, sentenced to the Stockade for repeated death crimes.

But Magnus is a good person. Magnus is a protector. A friend. Lup never forgets to mention his kindness, or his bravery, or his confidence. Kravitz is not going to let anything happen to him.

“Do what you want,” he tells him, finally. “I’m not letting the Raven Queen take your soul just yet.”   


Magnus nods. Stares at this new self. And then he says, “Head down to the Director’s office without me. I’m gettin’ my body back.”

-

Lup picks up the hem of her robe and twists it between her fingers. She never quite thought of Lucretia as a robe person— she favored the jacket during their IPRE days— but it suits her, she thinks. She catches a glimpse of herself in a nearby window, in which she has the opportunity to admire the white hair Lucretia has achieved. “Damn,” she says, “maybe I should get old.”

“You are old, Miss,” Angus tells her. “You’re an elf.”

She shoots a glare at him from over her shoulder. “A few hundred years isn’t that old.”   


“How old  _ are  _ you, Miss?”   


She shifts her gaze away from him. The truth is that she never quite knew, nor did she ever care to find out. She and Taako did pick a birthday and started keeping count once they left their aunt’s house for the final time, but quit after setting off on the Starblaster. Lup can’t quite remember what the number was. “Uh,” she says, “two— er, uh, three— four?—”

“You lost count.”

Lup huffs. “Okay, well, I’m immortal, so it doesn’t really matter now, does it? If I ever decide I want some gray hair and wrinkles, I’ll use my incredible magical powers to give myself some gray hair and wrinkles. No biggie. How old are you supposed to be, anyway?”

Shock crosses Angus’s face, followed by concern. His eyes drift towards the far wall. “Ten? No— Um— Wait, no, eleven—”

“Ha! You lost count and you’re a literal baby!”

“I am not a baby, Miss!”   


“Just born! You were just born and you don’t remember how old you are!”

“I’m— eleven!”   


“Hard to keep track of, isn’t it? Not so easy when you’re on the other side of it, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

“I am going to do my Disguise Self spell now, ma’am.”

“Alright!” she says. “Avoid the conversation! It’s fine!”

Angus takes a step back, making sure to pout at her as he does— a pout which Lup thinks is very adorable, although she doesn’t voice this, as she feels it would only serve to make him angrier— and taps his Baby’s First Magic Wand against the top of his head. A shower of sparks shoots out of it, concealing the entirety of his form, until it at last clears to reveal a carbon copy of Davenport. “How do I look?”

It’s weird to see her captain right in front of her and yet not in front of her at all. She watched him from the confines of her umbrella, wishing so desperately that she could speak to him, and now here he is. Or, rather, here is his body, his eyes, his smile, his face— but not him. Just something adjacent to it.

“Fine,” she tells him, but it comes out quieter than she meant it to be. Lup clears her throat and continues with, “You’re sure this plan will work?”   


“So long as we don’t cross paths with Madame Director and Mr. Davenport, we should be fine,” he says. “Otherwise, if we keep up the act, everyone else should believe that we are the actual Madame Director and Mr. Davenport.”

“What if someone tries to talk to us?”   


“You know Madame Director’s voice. Imitate it.”

“You make that sound a lot easier than it actually is.” As she fixes her new Lucretia robes, a thought occurs to her. “Hey, where’d you even learn this spell, kid?”

“Taako taught it to me! He said it would be very helpful in case I ever needed to run from the cops,” he tells her, beaming. “I just think it’s a very good spell for sleuthing.”

Lup is starting to think that maybe Taako is a bad influence.

“We’re wasting time!” Angus starts down the hallway without her, the heels of his shoes clicking against the tile. “Come on, Miss Lup! We need to solve the mystery!”

This kid is such a dork. 

Begrudgingly, she takes up after him.

It’s weird, walking around in Lucretia’s body. No one is around to see her, really— it’s mostly long stretches of empty hallway and the few stragglers she passes by every so often— but the difference is noticeable. Lucretia has a different demeanor about her, has straighter posture, a tighter gait, qualities which Lup finds difficult to imitate exactly. If someone were to look just a little closer, the thin veneer Lup has put on would be broken. 

She’s just glad so few people are out. If somebody were to catch her, or, worse, talk to her, she wouldn’t know what to do. 

Of course, this is the time for the cafeteria doors in front of them to swing open and produce the couple she’d seen earlier today and in the Miller’s Lab, because of course. Of course this is how things are going. She expected nothing less. 

_ Just keep walking,  _ she thinks, _ keep walking, keep walking, keep— _

“Madame Director,” says the voice of the orc woman, just as she’s about to pass by them. Fuck.

Lup halts in her path. She shoots a look of panic towards Angus, who does not seem to know how to respond, and who instead decides to simply shrug. She wasn’t sure what help she thought he might give.   


She offers up a “hmm?” and hopes to whatever god is still out there they won’t ask for much.

“Madame Director,” she greets again. “We— Wait, have you already destroyed the relic?”

Lup does not know how much time it typically takes to destroy a relic, nor does she trust herself enough to guess. “Um,” she says in her best Lucretia impression, “it was a pretty easy one this time. Just kinda disintegrated. Poof. No more relic.”

The dragonborn woman pipes up behind her, although her voice is quieter, choked and strained, her eyes puffy. “Is it really gone?”

God, this is making her feel like shit. Taako is much better at this. “Yeah. Like I said. Poof. Um, so, listen, I gotta—”

“You sound different,” says the orc woman. “Are you sick or something?”

Lup suddenly regrets not taking Kravitz up on those accent lessons. While she will never admit she ran into a situation in which those skills would prove useful, she might get Kravitz to teach her one accent. One. “Uh, yeah, uh… The flu.”

“The flu? But— I just saw you earlier today—”   


“Ha, just kiddin’, got you,” she says, panicking. 

This does not seem funny to the orc woman, nor to her girlfriend, who is still holding back tears.

Okay. Okay, Lup is a good liar. She knows what to say and how to say it. She knows how to get what she wants. She knows how to persuade and manipulate, knows because it’s what kept her alive, and even if the decade alone made her a bit rusty, she is a  _ phenomenal  _ liar and she  _ knows  _ it and she’s going to  _ prove  _ it. She just needs to focus.

Lup takes a breath. 

“Taako offered me a piece of gum,” she tells them. “Turns out it was Mockingbird Gum. I’m trying to resist it.”

Well, not the best lie, but it’s what she has. Both of them seem to believe it.

“He’s pranking? At a time like this?” the orc woman says, before turning to her girlfriend and repeating, “He’s  _ pranking.” _

“Magnus is—” The dragonborn woman chokes up. “— And he’s  _ pranking.” _

She makes a mental note to apologize to Taako later.

“Yeah, some people have a different way of grieving, I guess,” she says. “Anyways, see you guys later.”

She prepares to speed-walk as fast as she can out of the situation, but the orc woman gently grasps her by the arm. “Wait, Madame Director, I—” She sighs. Leans in closer. “We’re all upset about Magnus’s death, but Carey is— Carey’s really torn up about it. I just— I care about her a lot, Director, and I hate to see her like this. Is there anything you could say that might… I don’t know, help her out a little?”

Lup purses her lips. She really does need to get moving before someone comes around and notices what’s up. She should just go. Magnus isn’t actually dead, after all, a fact that they’ll both soon find out, and she needs to do her own thing, so…

But this orc woman looks so concerned, and this dragonborn lady is one loose thread away from a breakdown. 

Lup groans internally. She hates having feelings. 

Despite the rest of her brain telling her,  _ You need to go right now!  _ she moves towards the dragonborn woman and rests a hand on her shoulder, soft, careful. She glances up at her. Her eyes are red.   


“Magnus was an amazing person who did incredible things and was kind to all who met him. He had his mind set on making the world a better place, and he did it. The proof is in the people he met, in the lives he saved, in the work he did.” She squeezes her shoulder. “And you. The proof is in you. You care so much because you loved him. Because you know he made the world better. He’s at peace, Carey.”   


She really hopes that the person she’s speaking to is Carey.

Her suspicions are (thankfully) proven correct when the woman— Carey— rubs a tear out of her eye. “Thank you, Director,” she croaks. And then, “I— I wanted to ask you something.”   


“Shoot,” says Lup. 

Carey takes in a breath, deep and shaky, trembling with the threat of tears. “Could we… Could we hold off on his Rites of Remembrance for a little bit? I just… I don’t want him to be forgotten just yet.”

Forgotten?

“Yeah, sure,” Lup says, although she has no idea what any of what she’s just said means. She’ll figure it out later, she supposes. Right now, she has a mission to go on. “Uh, hey, you know what? Why don’t you guys treat yourselves to some of that wine I hid in the cafeteria? In that, uh, drawer?”   


The orc woman blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Lup says. “Go on. Take as much as you want.”

The woman stares, then looks at Carey, who offers up a weak shrug. “I guess I could go for some alcohol.” 

“Cool, cool.” She begins shuffling away as fast as possible. “See you guys later. Come on, Davenport.”

She turns and practically breaks into a full sprint before they can protest any further. She really hopes Lucretia keeps some wine in the cafeteria or else she’s going to feel like a real asshole.

When they’re at last out of earshot, Lup whispers to Angus, “How did that work?”   


“I don’t know, ma’am,” he whispers in reply. “How did you know about Madame Director’s Secret Stash?”   


She does an internal victory dance, but only shrugs in response to Angus, her back turned so he doesn’t see the smug smile spreading across her face. “I’m just good at sleuthing.”

God, she is so fucking cool.

“You guessed, didn’t you?” asks Angus. “It’s not nice to lie, ma’am.”

She feels the pride drain out of her body. “You’re real fun at parties, huh?”

At that, he perks up. “I am!” he says. “At Candlenights, I gave a gift to everyone! Nobody gave a gift to me, though. Except for Madame Director. And Taako! He gave me a macaron, and I sat next to my Candlenights bush and ate it til’ it was all gone and it was delicious!”

Jesus, that’s sad. “And what’d Madame Director give you?”   


“The new Caleb Cleveland novel!”

“Aw.”   


“And a two thousand gold bonus!”   


_ “What?” _ _  
_

“I’m responsible for locating most of the relics’ whereabouts, ma’am,” he says. “I like to be compensated for my work!”

“No— no, yeah, deffo, I— Where did you put it? Do you have— like, do you have a bank account?”

“Oh, no. I have a piggy bank!”

She takes in a breath. “Yeah. Okay. Makes sense. Um, hey, you’re sure that Lucretia’s not in, right?”

“She shouldn’t be,” he says. “Taako, Magnus, and Merle usually insist on payment right after completing a mission. If I’m right, their meeting should be finished and she should be on her way to see Johann right now. It’s his payday.” 

“And how do you know you’re right?”   


He flashes a bright grin at her. “I’m the world’s greatest boy detective, ma’am. I’m always right!”

-

Lucretia settles into her desk, her hands folded in front of her. “Can I get you boys anything? Some tea?”

Beside him, Taako leans further back into his seat, crossing his legs in front of him. “Uh, depends, Boss, depends. You got elderflower?”   


“Of course I have elderflower. What do you take me for?”   


“Yeah. Yeah, no, you’re not a monster, of course you’ve got elderflower. Merle?”

Merle taps his soulwood fingers against the wooden armrest of the chair. It makes a pleasant thunking sound. “Mm, Earl Grey. Lil’ bit of honey.”   


“M’hmm, m’hmm,” says Taako. “Krav?”   


Kravitz seems nervous. Merle’s nervous, too, but Kravitz is visibly sweating. “Uh— Um— no thanks,” he stammers. 

“He’s lying. He’ll take some cinnamon tea,” Taako says. 

“Of course,” she says. “Davenport?”   


Davenport bounds up beside her. “Davenport,” he says.

“Would you bring their drinks to them?” she asks.

“Davenport,” he replies, before setting off towards another room. 

Merle notices that there are, in fact, a lot of doors in Lucretia’s office, most of which he has no idea where they lead. He’s not sure if that’s because their contents are secret or because he has a poor memory. He’s going to say the former, if only to save his pride.

For a moment, Lucretia is silent, instead choosing to stare at the blank surface of her desk than to look at them. The moment lasts too long, he thinks. He looks at Taako. Taako looks back. Kravitz is still sweating. 

Finally, she takes a deep, shaky breath, and says, “I’m— I’m sorry about Magnus. I really am. I knew Wonderland had its risks, but, I…” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I didn’t… I didn’t think this would happen. Not really.”   


He nods thoughtfully, as one would do if their friend had actually died and not just possessed a mannequin. She seems to believe it. He’d get a better read on her if she would lift her head, but her eyes are still focused on her desk. Perhaps he should say something.

He puts on the perfect sad eyes, clears his throat, and says, “Lucretia, I have a favor to ask.”   
She shifts her gaze to look at him. If he didn’t know better, he’d say her eyes were just the tiniest bit wet. 

Either way, he has her attention. “I know you're right in the middle of this stuff but, um, you know, we were thinking of havin’... kind of a little memorial service for Maggie,” he continues.

“Oh. Oh, yes, of course, we’ll have the, um…” She darts her eyes away from him once again. “The Rites of Remembrance.”

He waves a hand. “Well, sure, sure, but I was thinkin’ something with a lil’ more of a personal touch, you know? I mean, over the last few…” How long has he been here again? “Uh… The last few… months?”   


“Years,” Taako says.   


“Years,” Merle agrees. “Over the last few years, the few of us have gotten really tight and, you know, a lot of our best memories were forged together, just the three of us, in this very office. And so I was thinkin’-- what did Maggie love most in the world?”   


“Payday,” says Taako. 

Merle scrunches up his face until the tears come. “He always did love payday,” he says, in the most pathetic voice he can muster. “And, you know, we just wanna put together something really special for him. For this guy that touched our lives. And chopped off my arm.”

Taako follows suit. “Exactly,” he says. “And I know— I just know he would’ve wanted his last paycheck to go to us. For his memorial.”   


“You will both be compensated,” she tells him. “I, um, I usually give the deceased’s last paycheck to their family, but, uh… Magnus didn’t… Magnus didn’t have any.”   


“We  _ became  _ his family,” Merle says.

“Of course. Of course, Merle,” she says, “and you will both receive compensation for your loss. I, uh… I do have a question myself, though.”   


“Anything, Lucretia.”   


She gestures towards Kravitz. “Who’s your guest?”

Kravitz somehow manages to sweat harder. “I— uh—”   


Taako pats him on the arm. “He took our sweet Maggie’s soul to the afterlife.”   


Lucretia’s eyes widen. And then her brow twitches, her fingers dig into the palms, her shoulders tense and for a moment, she is the angriest he’s ever seen her. “You killed him?” she asks, and from her tone Merle can tell she’s trying to maintain a level of professionalism over the rage building beneath.

“No!” says Kravitz, “No, no, I— I wouldn’t— I’d never—”   


“Krav here is an employee of the Raven Queen,” Taako explains. “When people die, they go to see the Raven Queen. They mainly hunt down death criminals, liches, whatever, but sometimes souls get lost and need a little help. Magnus’s poor, poor soul got trapped in Wonderland, but Krav here…” He turns on the false waterworks once again. “Krav guided our Maggie to safety.”

Kravitz, relieved, only nods. 

“Oh,” says Lucretia. “I… I see.” She turns back to Kravitz, leaning in his direction. “I’m deeply sorry for accusing you. Magnus… Magnus has been in my employ for a while and I care very much for his safety. I’m grateful to know you were kind enough to save his soul from the confines of Wonderland.”

A moment passes in which Kravitz only stares at her. An awkward silence permeates the room. When he at last decides to open his mouth, his words come out Cockney. “No problem.”

Beside him, Taako snorts. He quickly turns it into a cough.

Lucretia nods, apparently none the wiser to Kravitz’s bad accent nor Taako’s poorly concealed laughter. That, or she doesn’t care enough to comment on it. She’s grown used to this. “I… I have a question for you, Kravitz, if that’s alright.”   


“Of course,” Kravitz says in that awful, strained Cockney.

She averts her gaze and takes a deep breath, before finally returning to making eye contact. “Where is Magnus now?”   


“Oh. Uh… The Sea of Souls,” Kravitz tells her. “It’s where most people go when they die. It’s like taking a long nap, except you relive your memories for eternity.”

Lucretia’s expression morphs into that of someone who’s just been struck in the face. “His memories?” 

He nods. “Very peaceful. Unless your memories suck. Even if they do, though, you’re sort of stripped of all emotion unless you’re for some reason woken up, and even then it takes a minute to really… wake up.”

She nods, although it doesn’t seem like she’s really listening. Suddenly, she rises from her desk and says, “I’m— I’m very sorry, I just… realized I had some work to do. Very quickly. I’ll be right back, I promise, I just, um… I need to step out for a moment.”   


She rushes towards the door before anyone can ask anything more.

As soon as she’s gone, Taako turns to Kravitz. “Cockney?”   


“I was nervous,” he tells him.

“She lives in the same building as me, my guy. You are most definitely going to see her again at some point, and, when you do, you’re going to have to explain why you spoke in an accent when you first met her.”

Merle chimes in with, “Well, we don’t know how long we’re going to live here for.”   


“Yeah.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk in front of him. “So, are we just out of a job after this?”   


“You could always join the Raven Queen’s employ,” says Kravitz.

Taako narrows his eyes. “Wouldn’t we have to be dead for that?”

Kravitz opens his mouth to respond, but pauses. He shifts his gaze from Taako and instead to the wall ahead of him, lost in thought.

“Well,” says Merle, “We’re getting this paycheck, at least. Let’s check on Benson.”

“Who?” asks Taako.   


“The, uh, the guy in the spa.”   


“We just had a whole surprise-twist-revelation about how that was Barry Bluejeans.”   


“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. The spa?”   


He sighs and digs around in his pockets for the Pocket Spa. He finally finds a house-shaped gadget no larger than his palm and removes its top, peeking in just wide enough to see a miniature Barry Bluejeans hanging around the tub. 

Merle sticks an eye right against the gap. “Hey! How are the sandwiches?”

Barry flinches upon hearing his voice, then flinches again upon seeing his eye pressed against the pocket spa’s gap. “You have to know that’s creepy,” he says. “Like, you’ve got to realize that.”

“No, I don’t think so. Here, what if I put my mouth up here instead and you toss a sandwich in—”

“I’m not going to do that.”   


“Okay! Okay. Just a suggestion.”

Taako leans over, pushing Merle’s head aside. “What are we supposed to be doing?”

Barry’s face contorts in confusion, although it’s hard to truly determine what expression he’s trying to convey, given that Merle’s vision is shoddy at best and Barry is the size of his thumbnail at the moment. “How would I know?”

Without saying another word to him, Taako once again shuts the Pocket Spa and stuffs it back into his pocket. “Well, no help from Barry.”

“Oh! Oh, I know!” says Merle. “Do your Detect Magic thing!”

He shrugs, swirls his fingers around, and allows the sparks to drift down from them. There’s a soft glow outlining the room, almost invisible, and then there’s nothing. Taako clicks his tongue, scanning the room.

“Portrait’s the only thing,” he tells him, pointing at the picture hanging above Lucretia’s desk. 

_ Damn it,  _ he thinks.

“Damn it,” he says.

From beside them, the coin sounds from one of Taako’s pockets. He opens it up, rummages around, and pulls it out, holding it between his fingers for all of them to hear. _ “Once you’ve made it into the Director’s office, you’re gonna need to move past that big heavy door in there to move back into her private sanctum,” _ it says.  _ “And once you get back there, you will be trespassing, so, I guess, well, I guess this is kind of the point of no return.” _

All four of them turn their heads to the largest door, which is made of thick, dark wood and inlaid with golden accents. Merle had never gone through, nor did he ever wonder where it led to. 

He guesses he’s going to find out.

“Should we do this?” asks Taako.

Merle shrugs in response.

He sighs, then quickly pulls the Pocket Spa out of his cloak and once again removes its top. “Hey again, Barold.”

“Hey—”

“Listen,” he says, cutting him off. “And think hard before you answer. We’ve been, uh, fighting alongside the Bureau of Balance for a long time. I need you to tell me, in a sentence, why we should trust you and turn against the Bureau.”   


Merle scoots over to where Barry stands inside. He’s wandered over beside the mirrors this time. He isn’t sure he’s actually partaken in any of the services the Pocket Spa has to offer. Right now, he just looks confused. 

He stares up at the two of them, his brow drawn, until he finally says, “Um… I don’t… I don’t think I’m evil? I mean— obviously there’s some holes in the ol’ Swiss cheese brain, but, uh…” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I don’t know why, but I feel like I trust you.”   


Without another word, he once again snaps the Pocket Spa shut. “Mm, okay, well, that was bullshit.”   


“I don’t know,” says Kravitz. “I think he was being genuine.” 

“Kravitz, I once told you putting jelly on burgers was a thing everyone did. And you  _ believed  _ me.”

He pauses. “It’s— It’s not?”

Taako waves a hand. “The  _ thing  _ here is we’re going to be unemployed.”

“Taako, I asked for jelly on my Big Mac at Fantasy McDonalds,” he says. “I was so confused when they told me they couldn’t do that. I can’t go to that McDonalds ever again, Taako.”

He ignores him. “So, what I’m thinking is this: We’re gonna be out of a job and these other people— these Red Robes— they might have work.”   


Merle nods thoughtfully.

“‘Cause I know that these thugs are definitely not going to accommodate us with any sort of gig after this,” he continues. 

Merle nods thoughtfully, but harder this time.

“Because we’re done! We did what they wanted and now we’re out, right? We’re outski.”   


Merle nods so thoughtfully he fears his head will fall off.

“There’s no more money in it for us,” he says. “Bottom line.”

“You know,” says Merle, “I think we deserve to rob them.”   


Taako rises from his chair. “Right?”   


“ We’ve been doing all the heavy lifting around here.”   


He moves towards the door. “We’ve earned this.”   


“Yeah! We’ve earned a little thievery!”   


He stops next to the heavy door Past-Barry instructed them to go through. “We didn’t sign anything legally binding. We’re free agents.”

“Right!” says Merle. “Free agents!”

Taako rears his leg back and kicks the door open. 

It does not move. Taako reaches over and holds his foot. “Ow. Oh, God. That’s— That’s a heavy one.”   


“It has a handle,” Kravitz tells him.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Yeah, it does.”

This time, he reaches out and grabs hold of the doorknob, swinging it open with a less-than-dramatic flourish. It creaks on its hinges, revealing a long, dark hallway, the end of which is not visible beneath the blackness it’s shrouded in. Merle stares into it, peers into it, trying to make out even the faintest outline of something. There’s nothing. Maybe he’d fare better if he still had his darkvision, but alas.

“Well,” says Taako, straightening his hat. “Let’s go.”

-

When they at last round the corner, Lup sees an ornately decorated double door that she’s come across once before. Lucretia’s office.

She peers down the hallway and looks over her shoulder, even though she hears no footsteps but her own. “Are you, like, for sure she’s not here, kid?”

“Almost positive!” he chirps. “It never takes very long to discuss payment. She should be gone already.”   


“Mm, okay. Just gonna… not focus on that ‘almost’ part.” Lup takes a deep breath. Steadies herself. This is going to be okay.

She is going to go into Lucretia’s office. She is going to find the ichor she’s hiding. She is going to reconvene with her family. She is going to make them remember. This is her plan and she will not deviate from it, nor will she let anything or anyone stand in the way of her executing it.

The door becomes closer, but it seems so far away. They’re not getting there quickly enough, Lup thinks. She doesn’t think they’d ever be able to get there quickly enough to satisfy her. The outcome is so close now she can feel it, nearly grasp it by its edges and she knows that this time,  _ this  _ time it won’t slip through the cracks of her fingers. This time, she’s here. This time, she’s not leaving.

She hears the click of her shoes grow in intensity but doesn’t feel herself speed up. Not consciously, anyway— objectively, she knows her legs are leading her into a sprint, but her mind doesn’t register it. Her heart is too busy beating out of its chest and her eyes are too busy staring at the door and her head is too busy thinking about finally, finally getting her family back. She’s almost there. Almost, almost, almost.

She reaches out a hand in anticipation of the doorknob, in anticipation of throwing the doors open and finding the one thing that will make her whole again. The one thing that will fix this godforsaken mess. Lucretia will abandon her shield plan. Her family will be together. Everything is coming together at last— she’ll see her best friends at last— she’ll hug her brother at last, and never again will she see that confusion in his face, that discomfort, at last, at last, he’ll remember, at last—

The door creaks open.

Lup halts a few feet from the entrance.

Out of the office steps Lucretia— the real Lucretia. 

She fails to notice them at first. Her stare is on the ground instead of on the two of them, and for a moment, she only stands there. Lup considers making a break for it, or casting some sort of spell while she has the chance, but her brief deliberation is cut short when she finally looks up to greet them with wet eyes.

“What are you—” She blinks a few times and the tears disappear. “What— Who—”

Lup holds her hands in front of her. “Lucretia, just listen to me for a second.” 

_ “Lup? _ How did you even— How—”

“It doesn’t matter. Just listen—”

“Why do you look like me? Why is— Davenport?”

Angus shifts on his feet. All three of them are silent, and then he says, quiet, ashamed, “I’m very sorry, Miss.”

Lucretia’s shoulders tense. “Angus?”   


“Okay,” says Lup, “I know this isn’t… I know it’s not ideal, okay? It’s not the ideal situation—”   


“You— I don’t—”

“— but I have to, Lucretia, you’ve got to realize this isn’t going to work, it can’t work—”   


“I don’t—”

“— Don’t blame the kid, okay? He just wanted answers—”   


“Were you…” She glances at the door, then back at her. “Were you trying to break into my office?”

Lup doesn’t reply.

Lucretia continues. “You’re not going to find anything in there, Lup. I’ve got this under control. I— I’ve always had this under control. I know what I’m doing and I just— Why are you so  _ intent  _ on trying to stop me?” She gestures towards Angus, who is in the process of folding in on himself. “Why did you have to bring  _ someone else _ into this?”

Angus opens his mouth, but closes it just as quickly.

“It’s not going to work, okay, Lucretia?” she tells her. “It was never going to work. I made that clear. You have to stop—”   


“I’m not going to stop anything,” she retorts right back. “I sacrificed fifty years and a hundred journals and my own  _ goddamn happiness _ so my family could live without the threat of an apocalypse looming over them. So I could put into motion a plan that would ultimately wipe out the relics and the Hunger for good. I was always, always going to make them remember—”   


“When were you going to make them remember  _ me, _ Lucretia? You want to know sacrifice? I spent ten years trapped because I tried to take the relics out of circulation, and when I’m finally, finally freed, no one knows who I am. When were you going to let them know who I was? Why did you make them  _ forget  _ me?”   


“You didn’t  _ see them,” _ she snaps. “They were miserable, Lup. All they did was look and look and look for you. They never slept, they never ate, they just shouted your name in empty woods and showed your face to strangers and everyone thought you were  _ gone,  _ okay, Lup? Everyone thought you had lost yourself. And I knew— I  _ knew  _ they would end up getting themselves killed trying to bring you back.”

“You made Barry a villain.”   


“I had to.”   


“You let the people I love leave me.”   


“I didn’t want that. I never wanted that.”

“You  _ abandoned  _ me.”   


“I searched. You know I searched—”   


“It was Taako who found me,” she snaps. “It was Taako who found me in a cave you  _ knew  _ the Gauntlet was in.”

“I didn’t know you were there.”

“You never checked.”   


“I couldn’t—”   


“I spent a decade by myself, Lucretia!” she says, and she’s shouting now, shaking. “You don’t know what it’s like to be in total solitude for ten fucking years! You don’t know what it’s like to be alone, not really, not in the way I do, and you don’t know what it’s like to hope and pray for someone to find you only to realize they stopped looking, and you don’t know what it’s like to  _ lose a brother—” _

_ “Magnus died today!” _ she yells, and it’s like all oxygen has been sucked from the room.

Lup is quiet.

Lucretia’s anger melts from her face and is instead replaced with regret. Her hands, which were clenched around her staff, loosen their grip and slide down. She looks away. “I’m sorry. I’m— I know it’s not the same. I know that hurts you too. I know I’ve done wrong. I’ll never stop apologizing for that, and— and I don’t expect you to forgive me— but Lup, I—” She sighs. “I  _ have  _ to go through with this plan.”

Lup lets her shoulders drop. She should be angry. She should be furious. And she is. Lucretia has done so much, all of it racing through Lup’s mind, but there’s a part of her that understands. The part that went into Wave Echo Cave to dispose of a weapon she created. The part that made a mistake.

“You could join me,” says Lucretia. “You could help.”   


And then there’s that. The new plan. The plan she promised they could do one day, a long time ago, if this world didn’t work out. She supposes it’s too late for a restart now.

That plan will never work. It was never going to.

“I can’t,” is all she says.

Lucretia squeezes her eyes shut. Purses her lips. “I know,” she says. “And I’m sorry for what’s about to happen.”   


_ What? _   


Before she can ask, Lucretia snaps her fingers. Instantly, she feels a circlet of pure, concentrated magic tighten around her wrists, pulling them together until they meet behind her back. As she feels her disguise melt away, she tries to will her magic to her hands, but it stops at her wrist, stagnates— they block her magic, of course. She tugs at them, tries to slither her hands through, but it doesn’t work.    


She glances back towards Angus. He’s afraid. It’s etched onto his face. Evident in the desperate pull against the restraints he’s just found himself in. 

“Lup and Angus,” she says, soft, quiet, “you’re under arrest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO EVERYONE. I CAN EXPLAIN.  
> u may be wondering why my fic that usually updates every 2-3 weeks took over a month to update. well!!! i am sure wondering that too!!!!!! however, like a 4th grader who forgot their homework for the third time in the row, here are my excuses:  
> \- i took a break during election week because i couldn't focus on writing, which set me back. i was under the impression that i could still get the fic out fairly fast!! i was wrong :(  
> \- i've been working on finals since early november! it wasn't a huge workload at first but then my teachers just kept giving me Assigned Ments :( i did so much writing. so much. i am haunted by it  
> \- i write 1 chapter ahead, so i was actually working on chapter 20 this whole time!!! a chapter which will be, by my estimates, around 15,000 WHOLE WORDS!!!! the longest chapter in the fic!!! after i finished it yesterday i looked at the word count like "okay this is a long one but surely it isn't Too Long." i was wrong!!!!!!! so very wrong. should i have broken it up? perhaps. but did i? of course not!!!! my existence is defined by word vomiting onto a google doc!!!!  
> okay!!! now that i have explained my horrible horrible over-a-month-long gap, let me say that im so so sorry. i really wanted to get these chapters out in a reasonable timeframe, but it just didn't end up happening. im going to try my best to not let it happen again. and now that finals are over i have more free time!!!  
> anyways. how have you guys been??? i hope you're well. and i hope you enjoyed the chapter!!! i did have to look up celebrities that eat paleo for this one :( sorry i made lucretia a jessica biel stan,, i did it for the bit. also im not really sure who jessica biel is. i think she's going to be in a movie about limetown?? or was???? ive only listened to a little bit of limetown so. pog!!!  
> also: i have adopted pog into my vocabulary and now i cant stop  
> also also: i mined diamonds in minecraft for the first time ever the other day!!! just an important detail i wanted tell yall. i made a sword, pick, and an axe!!!! and now i'm breeding turtles because i think the eggs are cute and i want to guard them with my life  
> so!!!! thank you guys so very much for reading. and for sticking around during this huge gap in updates!!! i really do appreciate it. <3 i hope you liked it!!!  
> NEXT CHAPTER: lup drags a baby into jail with her, kravitz is breaking and entering, and magnus is desperately trying to reconnect with his past. also barry is vibing in the pocket spa


	20. Come Hell or High Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST TIME ON COME HELL OR HIGH WATER:  
> \- magnus is mannequin. he is sad about this :(  
> \- magnus discovers his new body!!! it was made with goo, his own bodily fluids and hair, and love <3  
> \- taako, merle, and krav have a meeting with the Big Boss Director Lucretia Adventurezone and once she's gone they break into her Secret Hallway in her office  
> \- lup and angus disguised themselves as lucretia and davenport in an attempt to sneak into her office and reunite with taako, merle, and krav. it did not work. they are now in moon jail
> 
> ENJOY!!

The first thing she notices is that there are six jail cells. 

The second thing she notices is that she’s moving towards one.

Lucretia’s grip on her arm is gone. Instead, Lup stumbles across the floor, her feet moving by a will that isn’t her own, her hands restrained by magic. She fights, pulls as hard as she can against the circlet of light binding her wrists together, attempts to force herself to walk by her own accord, but it’s no use. She and Angus march into adjacent cells. The doors lock behind them. Behind her, she hears a snap and the circlet disappears. She immediately swings around and grabs hold of the bars keeping her trapped. “Lucretia!”

She looks back at her, shoulders tight, hands together, folded in on herself. “I’m so sorry.”

“Let me out right _fucking_ now!” 

“I’m sorry, both of you, I really am, and I’ll let you out as soon as all of this is over with—”

“Open these doors, Lucretia!”

“I can’t.”

_“Why not?”_

“I—” She takes a deep breath. There are tears gathering in her eyes. “I spent ten years on this plan, Lup. I have to see it through.”

“It won’t work!”

“No, no, Lup, it will, and it’s our only option—”

“It’s not! Let me out and I can help you, I can help us, I can rescatter the relics and stave off the Hunger for good, we still have time— 

“Lup.” Lucretia purses her lips. Furrows her brow. “The Hunger is already here.”

Lup doesn’t reply. 

There’s a brief moment of silence between the two of them and then Lucretia gives her a final, “I’m sorry.” before dashing out of the room.

“Hey!” she shouts, pounding a fist against the jail cell bars even though she knows she’s already gone, knows she isn’t coming back for her, knows she won’t listen. “Hey! Come back here!”

There’s no reply, because of course there’s not.

Lup presses her back against the wall and slides down to the floor. God fucking damn it.

A small voice from the adjoining cell asks, “Miss?”

She runs a hand through her hair. She isn’t sure if she should be annoyed about being trapped with an infant or ashamed of being the reason an infant is in moon jail. “Yeah?”

“What was that conversation about?”

Lup takes a breath. “Not right now, kid.”

“You promised me answers.”

“I can’t— not now. Okay? Later.”

“I’m in prison because I was promised answers, ma’am, and a woman I respect and love very much just threw me in here. She did that because those answers were important, right? And we were trying to find them?” He scoots closer to where she sits. “I need to know.”

She understands now why people complain about babies who keep asking them “Why?” This baby is like that, but more articulate. And more insistent. 

“I physically can’t tell you,” she says. “You’re going to have to wait.”

“That’s horseshit, Miss.”

“Well,” she tells him. “Most things are.”

“I need answers.”

“No.”

“Ma’am, please, I’ve been researching and—”

_“No.”_

“But—”

She shifts her head towards him. “Jesus Christ, no more questions. I _can not_ tell you. Okay?”

A silence follows. Guilt quickly settles over her. She shouldn’t have snapped at him and she knows it— he’s just a kid, after all, and he only wants to understand. Lup wants him to understand, too. She just isn’t able to help.

It’s frustrating. Knowing what everyone else doesn’t. Hearing what they can’t. Speaking with no one to listen.

In the quiet, she hears him ask, “Is— Is Madame Director evil?”

Lup feels her shoulders tense. She scrambles to shift from her place on the ground, facing Angus through the bars, where she can finally see how he’s folded in on himself, how his eyes don’t meet her own, how his arms are crossed around his knees. “No,” she tells him, “no, no, of course not. I love Lucretia. She’s a good person. Really.”

“Then…” He sighs. “She let me stay here. She’s— she’s been really, really nice to me. I just… I don’t get why this is happening.”

“It’s not because of you, okay, kid? You didn’t do anything wrong. Lucretia— Madame Director— she’s got a plan, alright? But it’s not going to work. And I had to stop her— we had to stop her—”

“You said I’d get answers,” he says, “and all I’ve done is betrayed someone I care about.”

“You will get answers. I promise you, you’ll get your answers—”

“Does the plan have something to do with them?”

She purses her lips. “Yes.”

He finally, finally meets her eyes. “Then I have to know, ma’am. I have to know why I’m doing this.”

Lup draws her brow. “You’re a smart kid,” she says. “I think you already know.”

At that, he shoots her a glare. “I don’t,” he tells her, and he sounds angry, frustrated, sounds like anyone would after searching and searching for answers to a question that could not be understood. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I’ve watched her destroy those relics, Miss, and I’ve watched her deduce their locations herself, and I’ve watched her agonize over them, study them for weeks, and it just doesn’t add up. It doesn’t add up! She only ever sends out Magnus and Merle and Taako, even when a different reclaimer is ready to go, even when we have trained professionals, and— and no one, no one has ever claimed as many relics as they have. This Bureau was established years ago and yet its mission kept failing until they showed up. Why? _Why?_ It doesn’t make sense!” 

“It doesn’t.”

“And— and none of them seem to know anything. One time Mr. Magnus was talking about his town, and I asked if he had grown up there, just to make conversation, ma’am, and he said no. He said he woke up there. And then I asked where he had grown up and he— he didn’t remember, ma’am. And Mr. Taako had a cooking show, and when I asked how he started it, he— he just said he woke up in a caravan with his name already on the side and everything, and I told him, ‘Sir, don’t you think that’s weird?’ and he just gave me some excuse about how he must have been drunk, but I could tell he didn’t believe it, ma’am, I could tell. And after I deduced he had kids, Mr. Merle was talking about his ex-wife, was talking about their time together, and I asked how they’d met, and he said he woke up on the beach and she was there. How does that happen, ma’am? How do they all just wake up in these places with no memory?”

“You’ve got it.”

“Is it— is it some weird amnesia? Is it a coincidence? It can’t be, Miss, and I know it’s not, I know it. There is so much they don’t remember, which would have made sense if he hadn’t been inoculated to the Voidfish yet, but they were. They are. It doesn’t make sense, Miss. It’s like there’s something we don’t know about. Some other layer of knowledge none of us are privy to. It’s like there’s a— a second— a…” He scrunches his nose up, furrows his brow, and thinks. “A— a second…”

She offers him a half-smile, although she knows it’s likely not of much comfort. “You see why I can’t tell you now, bud?”

“Hmm.” He folds his arms, thinking, before he at last glances up towards her. “You promise I’ll get answers?”

“I promise,” she tells him.

After some hesitation, he nods. “Okay. We just need to get out of here, then.”

Oh. Hmm.

Lup sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Yeah. Yeah, deffo, for sure, for sure. Uh— you wouldn’t happen to have taken Miss Madame Director’s key before she tossed us in the slammer, right?”

He shakes his head.

“Right. Right, right, right. Hmm. Um…” She clicks her tongue, then snaps her fingers as an idea begins to form in her mind. “Oh, hey, I forgot! I’m a fuckin’ wizard!”

“I wouldn’t—”

“Step back, kid.” Before he can protest any more, Lup gathers her strength into the center of her palm, focusing it, feeling the heat rise. She lets the light swirl within her, lets the magic in her veins pool together until she’s able to morph it, use it for herself. She wills fire to her palm, wild and dangerous and totally under her control, feels its sparks, its embers, its flickering light until it at last turns into a flame, and then—

And then she feels herself being thrown against the wall. 

The ache spreads through her back in a matter of seconds. She decides that this is the last straw. The moment they pull the Raven Queen out of whatever murky depths she is currently residing in, she’s telling her to take away the ability to feel pain. She’s already _dead._ This _sucks._

“Hmm,” she says through a strained voice. “Looks like that’s not it.”

“I was about to tell you,” he replies, “these jail cells don’t allow magic.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m— I’m starting to figure that out. Hmm.” She straightens her back. It cracks loudly. “Okay. Looks like it’s time for Plan B.”

“What’s Plan—”

Before he can ask, Lup cups her hands around her mouth, takes a deep breath, and shouts, at the top of her lungs, _“Kravitz! Barry! Taako! I’m st-u-u-u-uck!”_

“I don’t know how well that’s going to work, ma’am,” Angus tells her with his hands over his ears. 

“Well,” she says, “I guess we’ll find out. Taako! Barry! Kra-a-av! I’m—”

From somewhere beyond her, she hears a groan weighed down by sleep, followed by a, “‘S someone there?”

Oh, shit.

She casts a glance towards Angus. “See? Plan B worked. Never question a master.”

“I didn’t. I just asked what you were doing.”

“Still a question.” She turns her attention to their apparent neighbor. Through the bars, she can at last see that the pile in the corner was not in fact junk, but instead a man buried until a pile of blankets. “Hey! Hey, yeah, we’re here!”

“Oh, gnarly. Prison roomies.” He wipes at his eyes and yawns. The noise echoes off the walls. “You got any, uh, Fantasy Dill Pickle Pringles on you, perchance?”

“Aw, man, you know I ate some awhile ago,” she tells him.

“Aw, shucks. Aw— Aw man. You know, I asked a dude about it, like, a few months ago and he never got me my Pringles.

“I’m gonna call you Pringles, I think.”

“Yeah. Most folks do.”

“So, uh, Pringles…” She drums her fingers along the bars. “What’re you in for?”

“Uh, it’s been a few months. Or… Hm.” From where she sits, she can just vaguely see his fingers go to his chin as he becomes lost in through. “I mean, the charge is definitely traitor-ism. But I’m no traitor. I just, uh… I woke up, saw this red ghost, and then I blacked out for a second there.”

She feels her heart skip a beat. “Blacked out and woke up where?”

“Like…” He takes a breath, contemplating. “It was… a hallway. One I’d never been in before. They dragged me out, and when I asked why, they said I broke into the Director’s office.” 

Hmm. So Barry must have picked up the hobby of possession. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. “Hey,” she says in an attempt to switch the topic, “you know how to get out of here?”

“Nah.”

“Fair. Fair enough. I can work with that. I can work with nothing. The real question is this.” She leans against the bars, grasping onto them like her life depends on it. “Where are the guards?”

“Oh. Uh. Dunno. Lunch break?”

“Lunch break,” she repeats. “So no guards, then? They’re gone?”

“Well, I mean… They’ll be back.”

“In how long?”

“Uh—”

“Come on, Pringles, how long?”

“Mm… I mean, the guards have been kinda slackin’ all day… but if they were to show up again, uh, probably… like, one?”

“One what?”

“Uh… yeah. One.” He taps his fingers on his arm, thinking. “You know, I don’t think I’ve seen them in the past, like, three days. Or ten sleeps. It all kinda blends together, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” she says. She remembers the umbrella and the meaninglessness it gave to night and day. “Hey, listen, I’d give you a treasonist fistbump—”

“Oh, it’s cool. We’re, like, 10 feet away from each other.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. You want any weed?”

“I—” She blinks. “Yeah, I mean, of course, but how—”

He digs into his pocket, takes out a Ziploc bag, and slides it under the bars towards Angus. “Here, kid, pass that on to your buddy. You can have some too, if you want.”

“Mm, okay,” she says. “Angus, I— how old are you again?”

“11! I think!”

“Oh. Yeah, uh, probably— probably shouldn’t smoke weed yet. Here, give that to me.”

Angus, grinning as always, slides it to her. She sticks it in the pocket of her pants. “So, Pringles, me and the infant are gonna do a jailbreak. You in?”

He shrugs. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

“Sweet,” she says.

She holds out a finger and beckons Angus towards her. He scoots across the cold floor and sits in front of the bars, wide-eyed and beaming. “Alright, bud, no Lucretia, no magic, and no guards are coming back to catch us. It looks like we’re doing this the old-fashioned way. You got any bobby pins on you, by chance?”

He giggles, and for a moment she thinks he might decline, but he instead digs around in his bag and comes out with a small, worn cardboard box, the lid of which reads: _YOUNG ROGUE’S LOCKPICK SET!_

She glances back at him. His eyes shine.

-

Magnus doesn’t get his body back.

Not yet.

He spends a long time staring into the green plasma, at the silhouette of his body, at the just visible features of his face. He lays a hand that isn’t his over the outline of a hand that isn’t his, but is adjacent to it, and he promises himself that he’ll come back for this. 

And then he leaves.

It’s a short walk to the elevator, and an even shorter ride to the Voidfish’s chambers. There’s no one there to stop him. Even the guards aren’t on their usual patrol. He is free to roam where he wants, but there’s only one place he needs to go.

He walks down the hall to where the Voidfish resides. It’s usually filled to the brim with guards, but it’s empty tonight, as the rest of the building is. Must be asleep. Or preparing. One of the two.

Beyond the doors is the gentle plucking of a harp.

He opens it.

Johann stands in front of the tank, instrument in front of him. The Voidfish seems restless, he thinks. It’s swimming back and forth and back and forth inside the water, twirling, pushing its limbs against the glass, creating a loud tapping that can’t be pleasant on its own ears. There’s a low tune resonating from within— a tune it won’t stop singing. 

Johann stops plucking and sighs, instead leaning over towards his desk. “I’ll feed you soon, buddy, I just need to transcribe this here…”

Magnus clicks a button on the Tarantula Bracelet around his wrist— one of the best purchases he’s ever made, in his opinion— and feels the magic spread throughout him, settling over him like a film. He presses a hand to the wall and climbs.

For a moment there is quiet, and there is the peace that thrives within it. For a moment, there is nothing and no one except Johann and the Voidfish and the Voidfish’s low humming. It is safe.

And then Magnus drops from the ceiling and grips Johann in a sleeper hold. 

He slumps to the ground in a matter of seconds, unconscious. 

“Sorry, Johann,” Magnus whispers.

The Voidfish towers over him in a tank too large for him to quite comprehend. He doesn’t need to comprehend it. He only sticks his hands to the glass and again begins to climb until he finally reaches the top. He swings himself over and perches himself upon the edge, just above the surface of the water.

“Hey, buddy,” he says. “It’s, uh— it’s me. It’s Magnus. I know that I don’t um— you know, I don’t exactly look the same, but— it’s me.”

The Voidfish reaches its tendrils up to him and wraps one around his wrist. It’s comforting, in some weird way. 

“It’s good to see you too,” he says. “I… I feel like you’ve been trying really hard to tell me something. What do you know about me that I don’t?”

The Voidfish tugs gently on the wrist it has in its grasp. It wants him to come in.

Magnus lowers himself down.

-

Holding open the heavy wooden doors, Taako gestures for Merle and Kravitz to enter into the empty hallway in front of them.

Merle peers over his shoulder. “This is what she was hiding from us?” he asks. “A big hallway?”

“I mean,” he says, “it’s probably got somethin’ in it if Mr. Red Robe wants us to check.”

“Well,” says Merle, “why don’t you ask Mr. Red Robe?”

Taako shrugs and once again digs into his pockets. He mentally counts them down— that one’s an old Reese’s wrapper, that one’s an ancient and powerful magic weapon, that one’s ranch— until he at last finds the one he’s stuffed Barry into. It occurs to him that maybe he should clean out his cloak every once in a while. 

Peeling back the top of the Pocket Spa once again, he asks, “What do you think, Barold?”

Barry, who is reclining in a massage chair, interrupts his relaxation time to glare at him. “What do I think about what?”

“Uh, do we need to check this hallway? Come on, my man, get with the program.”

“I literally cannot hear any of the conversations you’re having.”

“Not my problem.”

“Okay.”

“There’s, like, a big empty hallway in front of us and your past self wants us to look at it. Should we?”

“Uh. Probably.”

“God, you’re useless.” Taako flips the Pocket Spa upside down and shakes it. Barry yelps and falls onto the floor below with a thud.

_“Christ!”_ he groans, wincing at the pain as he sits up. “What the fuck did you do that for?”

“Figured you’ve stayed there long enough.” He once again stuffs his Pocket Spa into his cloak. 

The coin at last begins to vibrate in his pocket. He digs around and removes it from its place in his cloak, instead letting it rest in the palm of his hand. From it sounds the voice of a Barry from the past: _“Now, you see the twelve orbs on their pedestals in front of you? Here’s how this puzzle works: once an orb illuminates, you wanna touch every fifth orb moving counter-clockwise, unless that orb is on the opposite end of the one you just touched. Oh, and after the third round, the emerald orb, you—don’t touch that one, you skip that one. Um, and if it—if it illuminates in a sort of warmer hue than it was on the last round, then you have to start this process in a clockwise order but you make sure that you…”_

Taako leans over. “Hey, Barold?”

“Yeah?”

He gestures to the empty hallway sprawling out in front of them. “What the fuck?”

“How am I supposed to know?” he asks. “I don’t remember shit!”

He sighs, then turns to Kravitz. “Krav, kill him.”

“What?” asks Kravitz.

_“What?”_ asks Barry, but perhaps a little angrier.

“He remembered stuff when he was dead,” Taako says. “This is easy. We want info, we just kill him again.”

_“Again?”_ says Barry.

Kravitz holds out his hands in front of him. “Okay. Okay, Taako, I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves—”

“How? I just solved all our problems. Just get out your scythe, take a swing, and we’ll put him back later. Easy-peasy-lemon-creezy.” 

“Killing someone and then ‘putting them back later’ is the exact thing the Raven Queen tells you not to do. Like, it’s Raven Queen’s Law 101.”

“Aw, come on,” says Taako. “You never broke any rules? Never stole a pen from work?”

“Mm, I think murder is a little different than stealing pens,” Kravitz replies. 

“It’s not murder if he’s already dead.”

“I’m already _what?”_ asks Barry.

“Shh-h-h,” Taako says before turning back towards Kravitz. “So you’re just gonna leave him like this? A death criminal? Walkin’ around?”

Kravitz shrugs. “Yeah.”

He crosses his arms. Kravitz is lucky Taako likes him. Otherwise, he’d just take his scythe from him and do it himself. They need their tutorial ghost here and Taako came up with a way to do exactly that. No point in ignoring genius. 

“Okay,” says Taako, in one last ditch effort to convince him to go through with his plan, “just ignore your whole job description, then. Ignore the death criminal. Right there. Ignore him.”

“You’re a death criminal,” says Kravitz.

“This isn’t about me.”

Merle pipes up with, “I mean, if there’s no orb thing, why don’t we just go through?”

He stares at the hallway ahead of him. It is, in fact, entirely empty, but the argument was more on principle. 

“Yeah, okay,” Taako says. “After you.”

Merle draws his brow. “No, after you!”

“Fine. Barry, after you.”

Barry, who had been looking at the hallway’s end, swivels around to face him. “Why me?”

“Like I said. If you die, we’ll just put you back together.”

“I don’t understand any of that!”

“Well, you don’t understand anything past, like, the last two hours, so…” 

“I’m not dying today!”

Merle, again, adds to the conversation with, “Why don’t we make Kraig go?”

Kravitz, in turn, gasps, clutching his heart and furrowing his brow, perhaps sending a new record for the most dramatically offended reaction. _“Really?”_

“You’re immortal,” Taako says.

This time, he turns his attention to Taako. “Even _you?”_

“Well— okay, listen, kemosabe, you can’t die. Like, you’re the only one here who is unable to die.”

“I would never send you guys down a death hall.”

“Oh. Okay, great, so we’re agreed.” Taako gestures in front of him. “Go on, Grim. Down the Death Hall.”

“No, I’m— I’m just saying that I wouldn’t send you guys somewhere dangerous. Because I don’t hate you.”

“Didn’t you murder Lup?”

“That wasn’t—” Kravitz pauses. Closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath in, then exhales slowly. And then he says in a calmer, more measured tone, “Okay.”

“Okay?” asks Taako.

“Okay,” he repeats. “I will walk down this empty hallway. Because it is empty. And not full of traps. And because I am immortal.”

“M’hm.”

“But if every single step is not danger-free, I will never, ever let you or anyone else in this room forget that you sent me down a Death Hall.”

“Fair. Very fair trade.”

Kravitz nods wordlessly. He places his hands behind his back, straightens his posture, and takes a slow, tentative step forward.

For a moment, all is fine.

And then he begins to sink.

The tile beneath him gives way, bending instead into a pit that has already swallowed both of Kravitz’s ankles and which threatens to suffocate him entirely. Taako, too, takes a step forward in an attempt to grab onto Kravitz and pull him out, but instead feels the ground beneath him give underneath his weight. He tries to lift his legs up, tries to find a way out, but all he does is stumble and stick his hands within it by accident. Merle all but dives in, a move which he cannot fully appreciate at the moment on account of almost dying. Barry, who seems unsure of what to do, sticks his arms in front of him in an attempt to grab somebody and tentatively steps forward as well. He’s immediately overtaken by the quicksand floor, like the rest of them.

Taako tries desperately to grab hold of Kravitz. He needs to free him from this mess, needs to do anything, to say anything, needs to pull the both of them out with all the strength he has remaining. It’s no use. The floor is drowning him, suffocating him, and he doesn’t know when the tile turned to liquid, he doesn’t know when his arms became so heavy, and he doesn’t know when his lungs dried up. He grasps onto Kravitz’s cloak and pulls him close, pulls him back towards the solid tile they were standing on before, but it’s no use. They’re both stuck in place. 

“I just drowned yesterday!” says Kravitz as the ground crawls nearer to his face. “I’m not— I can’t! Not again! You sent me down _a Death Hall!”_

“I didn’t think it’d be a Death Hall!”

“It was! It was a Death Hall!”

“Okay! Okay,” Taako says, palms in front of him as the ground reaches his shoulders. “We can get out of this. I haven’t died yet and I’m not dying now. Taako’s pretty much invincible. Right?”

“Why would you be invincible?”

“You’re not gonna cover for me when I die?”

“What— Of course I would! But you’ll still be _dead!”_

“Okay! Alright. Off-topic. Off-topic, I get it. Uh, Merle—” Taako swivels his head around to where Merle dived in. He’s already gone. “Okay. Okay, we lost Merle. Barry—?” He shifts his gaze instead to where Barry had fallen. He, too, has vanished. 

“Taako,” Kravitz says. “We’re going to die.”

“No. No, we’re not,” he says, but the ground has already reached his neck, and his hands are cupping Kravitz’s cheeks, and Kravitz is struggling, struggling to keep above the surface. “We’re not. I— I don’t die. I don’t. I— get out of it. We’re going to get out of it. We’ll be seeing your boss in a minute, right? Yeah. So just explain—” The floor is at his chin. “Just explain what happened and she’ll give us some jobs and we’ll— we’ll come right back down here, right? Nothin’ to worry about, my dude—”

“Taako,” says Kravitz, his brow drawn not in concern for himself, but concern for him. “You’re forgetting that the Raven Queen is gone.”

And then there is the feeling of his breath leaving his body, and there is total darkness, and then there is nothing at all.

-

Lup, again, tries to pick the lock on the outside of the door.

“Are you hearing a click when you push down on the pins, ma’am?” Angus asks. “Make sure you hear the click!”

“I know how to pick locks, kid, it’s just difficult to do it from inside the cell,” Lup tells him, frustration bleeding into her tone. “I thought I had this mastered, like, 300 years ago.”

“Picking locks can be difficult, ma’am, and this one is especially hard to pick.”

“No, not picking locks, I was fucking phenomenal at picking locks the moment I was born. I’m talking specifically about breaking out of dinky little jail cells.”

“I don’t know that this jail cell is dinky, Miss. It’s very high-security.”

“Yeah, and I’m a genius. This should be easy.” She hits a snag once again. 

“Madame Director is a genius, too,” Angus points out.

Lup slumps against the wall. He’s right. Lucretia is a genius— a genius that knows she’s been thrown into dinky little jail cells and picked the locks of said dinky little jail cells before. She realizes that Lup can’t be deterred by a little padlock on the outside of a door. But she does realize she can distract her. She does realize she can make her waste her time.

She can’t cast a spell to find out for sure, but she gets the sneaking suspicion that this lock is enchanted. 

Lucretia knows her too well.

She doesn’t relay any of that information to Angus, however. She just leans against the wall, sighs, and tells him, “Yeah. She’s a genius, too.”

He seems to notice she’s given up. “Well, Miss, I guess we’re stuck here.”

She pulls her knees to her face and rests her chin on top of them. “Yeah,” she says. “I guess we are.”

She wonders how Kravitz is doing. How Taako is doing. How Barry is doing. If they’re okay. The Director must not have found them out yet, at least— if she had, they’d be sitting in the jail cells next to them. She misses them. She misses her. She misses the way things used to be, back on the Starblaster. It was pointless and crushing and scary and it was hell to watch planets die and be reborn, hell to see the Hunger’s slow creep every year, hell to look in the faces of their inhabitants and know they would be dead come year’s end, but it was okay because they had _each other._ Now, they don’t even have that.

“Ma’am,” he asks, snapping her back into reality, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I’m okay, bud.”

“That’s good.” He rocks back and forth on the palms of his hands, leaning forwards, then back, then forwards, then back, and so on, and so on, and so on. “This is just like that Caleb Cleveland novel. The Clone Caper. Have you ever read a Caleb Cleveland novel, miss?”

She barely has time to respond with, “No.” before he continues.

“So, Caleb Cleveland is investigating someone’s doppelganger and he has to go into this huge gigantic mansion, and the mansion is owned by the mother of the person with the doppelganger and she, like, she’s evil, ma’am, but Caleb Cleveland can’t prove it yet, because you always need to proof to solve a mystery, so he gathers all kinds of clues, and then he finds out that she made the doppelganger to—” He takes a deep inhale to catch his breath. “— to replace the original kid with once she killed him, and she was going to kill him because—”

He can’t help but let her mind drift to her friends’ whereabouts. She needs to get to them. What if Taako starts remembering and she’s not there to help him through it? To see the recognition in his eyes, finally? What if Kravitz accidentally gives himself away? He’s got nowhere to go anymore. His home has been destroyed and he almost died with it. And Barry— Barry has just been thrust into the apocalypse with no knowledge as to why or how, no indication of who he is, no clue of where he came from. It has to be a nightmare. She wonders how much he knows. She wonders how deeply he knows it.

“Miss?” asks Angus, snapping her out of her thoughts. 

“Sorry,” she says. “Uh, I was just… Are you sure there’s no way we can use magic in here? No way to get out?”

“Well, ma’am, I’m sure there’s a way to get out, but I don’t think magic is the way. You can try again, if you want!”

She’s reminded of her body being catapulted into the cell wall and shudders. “Mm, I think I’m good there.” She instead turns her attention to the man laying on the floor of the other cell. “Hey, Pringles, you got any ideas?”

“I got so many ideas,” he says, staring at the ceiling above him. He does not elaborate.

“Rad,” Lup says, shifting her gaze back to Angus. “We’re fucked.”

He purses his lips. A look of guilt crosses his face as he draws his brow and shifts his gaze away from hers, resting his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet. “Well, Miss…” 

She leans forward, gripping the bars tight, staring him right in the face. He tenses his shoulders. “What?”

“Um…” He digs the toe of his shoe into the floor, refusing to meet her eyes. “Well, Miss, I’m very, very sorry for not telling you earlier, but I should point out that Madame Director didn’t shake us down when she arrested us.”

The realization dawns on her at first like a balloon descending and then like a steel anvil colliding with her head. “You have something.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a slingshot.

Lup’s hope sinks back into irritated disappointment. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna free us, bud.”

“It’s a Hole Thrower,” he explains. “Taako’s Hole Thrower.”

And, just like that, her hope springs back, this time accompanied by shock and confusion and a weird sense of pride. “Taako’s Hole Thrower? You stole this from Taako?”

He nods.

“Taako? The kleptomaniac? Pickpocket extraordinaire? The one who took Fantasy Leonardo DiCaprio’s wallet at the tender age of 65?”

He nods. 

“You stole it? Out of his pockets? One of his many pockets? Any number of which could have held regenerating pudding, nacho cheese, jelly, peanut butter, and the like? That Taako?”

He nods.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, little man,” she says. “I’m impressed.”

He lifts his gaze from the ground. “You are?”

“Stealing off of Taako is an accomplishment.”

He brightens, immediately straightening his posture and beaming at her, a stark contrast to his guilt a second ago. “Thank you, ma’am! Magnus gave me lessons!”

“Magnus?”

“Yes! He’s multiclassing as a rogue now! And I may be a little wizard boy, but I figured rogue-training would help with sleuthing!”

She never thought of Magnus as a rogue-- he's loud, likes to rush into fights-- but she supposes he can be sneaky when the situation calls for it. Maybe he _is_ fit for rogue-ing. Although, if anyone were to teach a child how to steal, she’d think it’d be Taako. “Why didn’t you tell me you had that with you sooner?” 

The guilt returns. He goes back to fiddling with the Hole Thrower in his hands, keeping his gaze trained on it instead of her face. “I— wanted answers, ma’am.”

“I gave you your answers.”

“Well— well, yes, ma’am, but…” He shrugs, then mumbles, “I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

He shifts on his feet. “I— I don’t know what’s going to happen. I mean— something is wrong. I know that, Miss, and I’ve known that for a while, but I’m not ready for it. I don’t have much magic. I’m not strong. I’m just a boy. And I’ve—” He takes a deep breath. “I betrayed Madame Director, ma’am. Madame Director took me in and I betrayed her. Everything is falling apart and something bad is coming and I— I betrayed Madame Director, Miss, and I know she’s not evil, I know it, but I’m so scared, I was scared then and I’m scared now, I’m scared of the thing that’s coming and I’m scared that Madame Director hates me and I’m scared I did the wrong thing and I’m sorry I kept the Hole Thrower a secret from you but I didn’t want to leave because I was scared—”

“Okay,” says Lup, holding up a palm. “Slow down, bud. You’re gonna be fine.”

He glances up from the floor to look at her. His eyes are wet.

“First of all,” she tells him, holding up a finger, “you’ve now got the best wizard on the goddamn planet as your own personal bodyguard, so there’s that. Second—” She holds up another finger. “Lucretia doesn’t hate you.”

He purses his lips. “She doesn’t?”

“She doesn’t hate me and I just screamed at her.”

“How do you know she doesn’t hate you?”

“‘Cause it’s ‘Cretia. Her facial expressions give away everything.”

“She’s very stoic, in my opinion, ma’am.”

“Well,” says Lup, thinking back to all of the time they spent together, back when the world still reset every year and every mistake was only temporary. She was more readable before the Judges. More open. But then she had to live on her own with the weight of an impending apocalypse and possible permanent death on her back. After that, every twitch of the lips and raise of the brow had its own meaning. “You get to know her.”

Angus opens his mouth to reply, but Lup interrupts him when she feels something wet drop on her shoulder. “Hey, kid, is there a leak in here? Like, is it raining right now?”

“On the moon?” he asks. “No, ma’am.”

There’s another drop, this time on the back of her hand. She lifts it to her eyes to inspect it, and—

And finds a small puddle of swirling color within pitch black tar. 

She feels the blood drain from her face. 

“Angus,” she says, “I’m going to need you to shoot that Hole Thrower right now.”

“What? Why?”

“We have to leave right now, kid. I’m not kidding.”

“But—”

“Go!” she shouts, and Angus responds by pulling the trigger on the front of his cell doors, which evaporate in moments. He quickly hurries out and once again aims, this time for her cell, and shoots. 

There is a stabbing pain on the back of her hand. She wipes the fragment of the Hunger from where it lay, but the sting remains. It’s coming. It’s coming and it’s going to hurt people. It’s coming and it’s going to destroy this plane.

The tar remains stagnant in a pool in front of her. 

Who is she kidding?

It’s already here.

Lup dashes out of her cell and to Pringles’, where he lay in a heap on the floor, trying to nap. Upon hearing her skid to a halt in front of his door, he glances up. “What—?”

“You’ve gotta go,” she tells him. “You have to— We’re going to free you, okay? Get somewhere safe.”

“I’m leaving?”

“Promise me you’ll get somewhere safe.”

For a moment, he only stares at her. And then he nods.

“Okay,” she says. “Angus, shoot his cell.”

Behind her, Angus raises the Hole Thrower, pulls back the elastic, and fires. The band snaps upon firing, leaving in its place a useless split string. Angus’s face drops. She knows what he’s thinking: _I’m going to have to explain this to Taako._

The bars of Pringles’ cell vanish in seconds, leaving behind a perfect circle of steel poles. He stares at it as if he’s uncertain. Or, afraid, maybe. Lup doesn’t know what of. Maybe he thinks he’ll be caught. Maybe he’s grown used to imprisonment. Maybe he thinks it’s a trap.

But he stands. And, tentatively, cautiously, he steps outside. 

Lup shifts her gaze between the two of them. They don’t know— they _can’t_ know— what’s about to happen. But she can protect them until then. “Let’s go,” she says. “We need to get to Lucretia’s office.”

-

Magnus descends into the Voidfish’s tank.

The water within it is dark in pigment, but otherwise clear. Specks of white swirl around him as they float throughout the tank. He’s not quite sure what they are. Then again, he hasn’t been quite sure of anything for a while.

He feels the water permeate his wooden body, soak into his flesh, weigh it down. The tendril of the voidfish gently pulls him closer to it. Maybe it’s afraid he’ll sink. Maybe it just wants to have him in its grasp. To know he’s there. To comfort him.

Inside of the Voidfish, there are stars upon stars upon stars, galaxies upon galaxies upon galaxies, all colliding with one another. Purples mixing with blues mixing with something he doesn’t know the meaning of. 

It bellows. He knows instinctively what he needs to do.

Magnus closes his eyes.

And he sees it all.

He feels a shock travel down the length of his spine. It feels as if he’s been struck by lightning. 

In his mind there is a vision, and in that vision he sees himself, except it’s not himself. It’s a man who looks like him, who smiles like him, but who isn’t him, because it can’t be him. He’s too young and too loose and too off.

He stands inside a cave glittering with gems. Magnus doesn’t recognize it, and yet the memory tugs at his brain.

He’s wearing a jacket that’s the same shade of red as Barry’s robe. On it is the patch left for them at Candlenights. The patch he found in Barry’s chest. And there are others behind him, too— others wearing those robes, those patches, and his head hurts so _much—_

The man reaches out.

And then he is gone.

His stomach lurches. The vision shifts.

Magnus is in the arms of Not-Magnus, and he is running, running, running as the world collapses around them, trying to reach the streak of silver sitting on the horizon. It looks like— a boat, but— but it’s not, he knows it’s not, and he doesn’t know how he knows that— 

Once again, his stomach lurches. And the vision shifts.

He’s inside of a tank. Not-Magnus comes in to feed him with poems and songs and literature. Every time, he’s in that red jacket. Every time, he is kind. 

It doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t remember this. He _should_ remember this. Magnus knows, objectively, that there are pieces of his memory missing, fragments he can’t quite make fit, and yet it doesn’t make sense. The Voidfish is showing Magnus its own memories of him, but that Magnus just isn’t _him._ It can’t be.

Can it?

Everything is clicking into place but nothing is making sense. 

He voices the one truth he’s gathered: “I’m a Red Robe?”

The Voidfish does not answer. It doesn’t need to. 

Magnus asks, “Is there anything I can do to get your kid back?”

The Voidfish reaches out with a tendril and wraps it around his hand. And then it sends him a vision.

At the bottom of the tank, an egg hatches. And out of the egg, there comes a Voidfish. It’s tiny, just a fraction of the Voidfish’s size, but it doesn’t seem intimidated. It sings and dances and is happy.

The door opens. The Director steps inside. And yet it’s not the Director he knows— it’s the younger Director. The Director she showed them just before they left for Wonderland. 

She’s wearing a red jacket with a patch on it.

She reaches in, scoops the baby Voidfish into a small container, and leaves. The baby and the parent scream out for one another. When the door swings shut, they don’t stop screaming.

He blinks and is back in reality. The Voidfish floats in front of him, silent.

And then there is noise.

It’s muffled by the water, but he hears shuffling outside of the tank, followed by a groan. Johann first rubs his head, then glances up, where he sees Magnus— or, at least, a mannequin— holding onto a tendril of the Voidfish. In his mind, Magnus prepares an escape plan.

But then Johann is thrown backwards into the far wall.

He presses his face to the glass of the tank and scans the room, looking for whoever did it, looking for someone to fight, but sees no one. It’s only as he slumps onto the ground that the pieces finally, finally slide into place. It’s only as the rise and fall of Johann’s chest becomes ragged that his vision clears at last. 

In front of him are three shadowy figures, each of varying size and shape, each advancing on Johann’s trembling body. Their forms flicker and melt and morph, and still they’re solid. Ever changing, but solid. Solid enough to wield a weapon, solid enough to stagger towards a target, solid enough to attack. Inside of their jet black silhouettes are swirls of color, of neon reds and blues and greens, of remnants of the dead planes he failed to save. He remembers— distinctly remembers— being killed by one of these. He remembers being killed by one of these multiple times.

The fog that has been plaguing his mind at last begins to clear.

The Hunger is here.

Magnus turns back to the Voidfish. “Do you need this water to live?”

It bellows. Magnus has spent enough time with the Voidfish to know its meaning.

“Cool,” he says. “I’m going to get your kid back.”

Magnus reaches into his belt and takes out an axe. His movements are slowed by the water, but the force of his swing is still enough to shake the panel in front of him. He doesn’t need it to just shake, however. He needs it to shatter.

He rears back and takes a swing. There’s nothing. Only a tremor. 

He rears back. A tremor.

He rears back. A tremor.

He rears back. This time, a crack at last spreads in the glass, but it’s only a small fracture. It’s barely made a scratch on the surface. He doesn’t need a scratch, doesn’t need a fracture, doesn’t need a tremor. He needs to break this tank. But at the rate the Hunger is advancing on Johann compared to the rate at which the glass is cracking, Johann will be dead by the time he gets out. He needs to find another way to shatter this glass and drown the Hunger, but how? 

Beside him, the Voidfish slams itself into the glass in front of it. A web of cracks form beneath its weight. 

His heart lifts from the hopeless pit in his stomach. “Thank you,” he says.

It bellows in reply.

Magnus lifts his axe and swings. The Voidfish slams into the glass. He lifts. It bashes. He lifts. It bashes. He lifts. At last, the tank bursts.

He and the Voidfish are swept into a flood, the wave crashing onto the floor below, wiping out most of the Hunger in nearly an instant. The water turns the room into a shallow pond. Johann lies face down in it. Magnus wades through the water as quickly as he possibly can to kneel by his side and turn him around.

Johann’s face is a mess of blotchy purples and reds. When he opens his mouth, there’s blood coating the teeth he has remaining. He coughs, and out comes a clot. He barely seems to register it. His eyes are bleary and out of focus, trained upon a single spot on the ceiling, barely moving, and by the labored, pained breaths he’s taking, Magnus knows what’s happening. 

He gently reaches out and gathers Johann’s body in his arms, a hand under his head, another upon his stomach. His gaze slowly, slowly shifts towards him. He tries to say something, but it comes out a croak.

Behind him, the Hunger approaches. He barely has time to turn around before it slams him into the wall with a force he’d never imagined before.

When Magnus opens his eyes, everything is gray. He’s back to where he was before— to where he was being pulled into the Astral Plane— except there’s no portal to the Astral Plane this time, no door to let him in. There is, however, a door of jet black and neon red and blues and greens, beckoning to him. Welcoming him. 

He shifts his attention instead to Johann’s crumpled form. Above it is the faint, foggy outline of a familiar face. Johann. His spirit. 

He stares down at him. For a moment, it is silent.

And then he says, quiet, somber, “Don’t let them erase me, Magnus. Don’t let the world forget.”

And Magnus is awake again.

The Voidfish knocks away the Hunger that had just attacked him with a single swipe of its tendril. Magnus rises to his feet with some struggle, stumbling upon his first couple steps towards where the Voidfish lay. Upon reaching it, he rests a hand upon its head, careful with his touch, gentle, afraid to hurt it even after all his years of loving it. “I’m coming back for you,” he tells it.

The Voidfish lifts a tendril and places it over his hand

And Magnus finally, finally leaves to find his body.

-

Taako is alone.

He’s been alone before. He’s been alone his whole life. This, though— this is a different kind of alone. 

This is isolation.

Taako is suspended in a mass of gray that extends on and on and on to the very edges of his perception, and then on some more. He writhes and kicks and punches, but it moves him nowhere. There is no exit. He’s stuck.

He calls out: _Kravitz? Merle? Barry?_ and then, after a few beats, _Lup?_ No one answers. The sound of his voice is absorbed by the nothingness all around him. He doesn’t know why he thought it’d turn out any different. He doesn’t know why he thought there’d be some kind of safety net. There never is. Taako has always, always had to create his own safety net and he’s always, always had to do it on his own. 

There is no safety net anymore. 

He calls out again: _Kravitz? Merle? Barry?_ A beat. _Lup?_

Lup isn’t even here. She’s probably already ruined the mission for all of them. He’s almost certain that she’s gotten caught by now. Which is fine— they probably won’t be continuing on with any kind of mission anyways. 

But he wishes— 

He wishes—

Why does he wish she were here with him?

The silence pricks at his ears, then swallows him whole. He hates being alone. He hates being alone so much and he has no idea why. Taako has always been alone. He’s always been just fine being alone. So why can’t he stand the solitude? Why does being by himself always feel so wrong?

He calls out once again: _Lup?_

Taako should hate her. He shouldn’t talk to her. He shouldn’t befriend her. He shouldn’t trust her. She has his goddamn face, after all, and that _should_ be weird. Instead, every time he looks at her, every time he speaks to her, he finds a sort of comfort within her presence. A kind of comfort unique to being around her. Something like fulfillment. Something like ease. He knows he shouldn’t trust it, and yet every single part of him is begging him to. 

He leans back against nothing. His ears ring. 

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Until he can find a way out of this— if he can find a way out at all— it’s no use contemplating his weird loneliness issues.

Taako closes his eyes.

And then he hears a _thump._

He jolts. He thinks, Is there actually someone else there? He thinks, Is that a good thing? 

_Thump. Thump, thump, thump._ Growing increasingly louder and increasingly frequent. 

He tries to cast a spell on himself, but the magic won’t surface, because of course it won’t. The best wizard in the world and yet he can’t force magic through his veins. Instead, he reaches for the dagger in his pocket. Grasps the handle. Runs a finger along the edge to check its sharpness. Pulls it out. It evaporates within seconds. 

He’s fucked.

_Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump,_ all around him now, everywhere, surrounding his entire self, infiltrating his mind. _Thump, thump, thump thump_ , insufferably loud, insufferably quick, insufferably repetitive, and Taako almost wishes for the silence to come back. _Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump_ , and he’s sure this is the end this time, no wiggling his way out of it, this is it, this is real—

And then, a voice, faint but still there: _“What?”_

Lup.

Just as the thought occurs to him, the ceiling tears open, revealing a light that nearly blinds him. He reaches out, extending his arm past his head, past the gray, past his confusion, past it all—

And he is lying on the cold tile floor of the hallway, Lup’s hand planted on his shoulder. 

“Hey dingus,” she says. “You look pretty fuckin’ dumb right now, huh?”

-

Lup stares down at Taako, a bright smile plastered across her face. He doesn’t seem as amused. 

Brushing her hand off his shoulder, he rises to rest on his elbows. “Eh, I don’t know. You were the only one _not_ rolling around on the floor, so I’d say _you_ look pretty stupid right now.”

“Yeah, okay. Let me just ask Kravitz.” She nudges Kravitz in the ribs with her foot. His eyes shoot open and he scrambles to sit upright. “Hey, Taako was just squirmin’ around on the floor for no reason and he’s saying I look dumb. Who’s right? You have to choose one of us and if you betray me I’m disowning you.” 

He blinks. Once. Twice. And then the confusion and fear drains from his face to give way to relief. _“Lup?”_

“Ha!” She turns her attention back to Taako. “See? He chose me. I’m right. No take-backsies. The power of friendship prevails.”

Kravitz follows her gaze to her brother, upon the sight of which his eyes widen. _“Taako?”_

“I said no take-backsies,” she repeats.

He ignores her. “I— I thought— I thought I died. I thought we all died. I— I thought we’d gotten stuck in a demiplane, or we went to the Sea, and— I— I thought Lup would have to find us, and— and the Raven Queen—” He takes a deep, shuddering breath before examining his arms, his sleeves, pressing his fingers onto the cold tile floor. “We’re okay?”

At that, she feels a tug at her heart. Dropping the humor, she says, “Yeah. You’re okay.” 

He nods, slow, cautious. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Kravitz pushes himself up and rises to his feet, shaking a little. He reaches out a hand for Taako to take. He does. 

“You good, bud?” she asks.

He nods, and at last his trembling seems to subside. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m good. Where were you? Also, uh…” He points to Angus. “Who’s this?”

Taako peers over Lup’s shoulder to see Angus, who seems to be busy hunching behind Lup and giving himself forehead lines. The moment Taako sees him, he says, “Oh, hell yeah! What’s going on, little man?”

“I went to prison,” Angus tells him.

Lup notices the way Taako’s face lights up, if only for a second. Pride. “Happens to the best of us.”

“Sir,” he says, “are you okay?”

“Aw, what, me? Yeah, of course. A little illusion never hurt anyone.” He glances towards Merle and Barry, who are still writhing on the floor. “Well. Not anyone important, anyways.”

Lup clicks her tongue. “Oh, come on, Taako. As soon as I kick Merle and Barry awake, I’m making you apologize to both of them.”

“And let me bully them to their faces? Even better,” he says.

She rolls her eyes and instead makes her way to the spot where Merle lay on the floor, silently trembling. She rears back a foot, contemplating if she should prank him or be nice and just gently nudge him awake. Of course, she decides on the prank. Lifting her leg as high as it will go, she swings it back down into the back of his shoulder. He opens his eyes the moment her shoe makes contact with his skin. “Ow!” he groans, rubbing at his now wounded shoulder blade. He blinks a few times, his eyes scanning his surroundings, before he at last says, “Huh?”

“Hey, old man,” says Lup. “Welcome to the apocalypse!”

“The—” He rubs at his eyes. Adjusts his glasses. Peers at her through the lenses. “What’s goin’ on?”

“We’re about to get you your memory back and save the world,” she tells him. 

“My— huh?”

“Your memory! Catch up, Merle.”

“Am I dead? Are you God?”

“You literally know me. It’s Lup. I’m Lup.”

“Lup, you’re _God?”_

“Okay, get up.” She reaches out a hand for him to grab onto. He takes it, pulling himself to his feet. 

After waking Merle, she turns her attention to Barry, who is squirming on the tile, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Instead of kicking him, like she did Merle, she decides that he’s been through enough in the past couple hours and chooses instead to lean down beside him and gently shake him by the shoulder. His brow twitches before his eyelids flutter open. He takes a few minutes to readjust and focus his distant gaze, blinking the sleepiness out of his eyes. Under his breath, he mumbles, “What—?”

“Morning,” she says.

He tenses. His head turns towards her, his eyes much more alert. It doesn’t take long for the red to rise in his face. “Uh— hmm— uh— morning— uh— Lup?”

“The one and only,” she tells him. “Listen, you got tricked by an illusion. You’re all good.”

“Oh— um— okay— illusion, yeah, okay.” His gaze flickers from her to the ceiling to her, as if he can’t quite decide if eye contact or no eye contact is best. She’s not quite sure he heard what she said at all.

She sticks out her palm. “Need any help?”

He stares at her outstretched hand with wide eyes and cheeks getting redder by the minute. Not taking his eyes off it, he says, “Oh. I— oh. Uh— I mean, I can, um, get up on my own if you— if you want, like, I don’t need to, um, uh— Don’t get me wrong, though! I can, uh, I could use help? But only if—”

“Just take my hand, Barry,” she says, a type of bold move she could have never committed a few decades ago. Had they both lost their memory, nothing would have ever gotten done. 

He takes her hand, although a bit tentatively, and rises to his feet. Upon the contact, his face somehow deepens to yet another shade of red.

“Well,” says Lup. “Thanks to me and me alone, you have nothing to worry about anymore. I even disabled that alarm for you so you could writhe on the floor in peace.” She gestures towards the alarm bell in the corner, which is ringing, but producing no noise. 

“I cast Silence on the alarm, ma’am,” Angus says. 

She waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, everyone wants to be a hero. I was the one who saw it ringing.”

“You saw it after I pointed it out,” he replies.

“Still saw it.”

He shoots her a look, but ultimately drops the subject. Angus turns towards the rest of them and says, “I came for answers.”

“Well, you’re not gonna get ‘em here,” says Merle. “I hate to tell you, kid, but none of us know shit.”

“I feel like some of us know more than others, to be fair,” Barry says. “I feel like some of us have, I don’t know, like, more than a couple hours worth of memories.”

Lup holds up a hand, signaling them to shut up. “You’re all going to get your answers.”

From behind her, Taako asks, “When?”

She turns. “What?”

“When are we going to get them?” He levels her with a glare. Lup’s heart sinks. She’s seen him glare like this before— the irritation plain on his face, the frustration, the look in his eyes hinting at the anger simmering beneath— but it’s rarely ever directed at her. “I don’t know that you’ve ever given me a straight answer. Are we really going to find anything out? Or are you bluffing?”

“You’re—” She draws her brow. “Taako, I’ve never wanted anything but for you to get your answers.”

“If that were true,” he says, “I would have had them by now.”

Kravitz steps in with a, “Taako—”

Lup cuts him off. “Your answers are here. Okay? I just need you to trust me, Taako. Can you trust me?”

His expression sours. This time, it’s less because of anger and more because of discomfort. Taako breaks eye contact with her and doesn’t respond. 

A silence falls among them. 

“There’s a door ahead,” she tells them. “I think I know what’s in it.”

They share glances with one another, except for Lup, whose gaze is focused on Taako, and Taako, who refuses to look at anyone. They wordlessly begin to walk towards the door.

When Taako passes by her, she grasps him by the wrist. He sets his jaw. “Listen,” he says, “I don’t know what your whole deal is—”

“Everything is about to go to shit, Taako,” she tells him. “Just hear me out before it does.”

He doesn’t reply, but he does turn to face her, which is something, at the very least. 

She takes a deep breath. It’s shaky. “I love you, Taako, and I need you to know that. Just this once, just this last time, I need you to understand it. If my plans are ruined, if we’re stopped, I need you to understand that I love you more than anything in any galaxy in any plane—”

He rips his hand from hers. “I don’t know you.”

Lup feels the pit in her stomach grow.

Taako runs a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed, and he looks so tired. Angry, but tired. “I don’t know you,” he says again, although this time it comes out more vicious. “We just _met._ You keep telling me this cryptic shit, everyone keeps telling me this cryptic shit, and no one will tell me why or what it means and I’ve spent this whole time just trying to get by, but then all this shit happens and I have no idea what to do about it because I just— I can’t understand. I don’t know why you look like me, I don’t know why you spew static all the time, I don’t know why you act like you know me, I— I don’t know why I feel like I know you. I don’t know why I trust you when you’ve given me every reason not to. I don’t know why I like you even though you’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met, which is saying a lot, since I work with fuckin’ Bill and Ted, and—” He clamps his jaw shut, silencing himself, if only for a few moments. “I don’t get it, Lup. I don’t know you. I’m not supposed to know you. Why can’t you just give me some answers?”

There’s something rising and falling in Lup’s chest. Something adjacent to joy, adjacent to pity, adjacent to pain, swirling, combining. There’s a part of her that knows it’s almost over. There’s a part of her that sees the door ahead, that sees the first piece she needs in reassembling her family, that sees the end of the static and the longing, but there’s another part of her that refuses to believe it. A part of her that expects the worst. 

“You’ll have them,” she says. “I know I keep saying that, Taako, but you’ll have your answers. You just have to go with me through that door.”

She doesn’t know if what she’s saying is true. She hopes it is.

He stands for a moment, quiet, and she wonders what he’ll do. If he’ll just leave. In the end, he brushes past her wordlessly and heads for the door.

Lup takes a deep breath. 

It’s happening.

She follows behind him.

-

When Magnus awakens, he’s drowning.

Or, at least, he feels as if he’s drowning— his vision is blurred, his lungs are devoid of air, and, when he dares to take a breath, he breathes not oxygen but instead the plasma he’s been growing in. He gasps, which makes it worse, and flails for the top of the container, which he manages to grasp onto and pull himself up with. He at last takes a breath— a real breath— and ends up coughing, coughing, coughing, until he finally hacks up a chunk of plasma.

He situates his elbow onto the edges and pulls his legs up and over. Of course, he tumbles out rather unceremoniously, hitting the ground with a _thump._ Ache centers in his back and quickly circulates through his entire body. Good. He hated that mannequin.

Upon noticing the table in front of him, he stands, with some difficulty, and trudges towards it. Using a hand caked in plasma and the _juice_ he’s currently covered in, he reaches for his old gear and slips it on. In the center of the table is a note scribbled onto torn notebook paper. He picks it up, gentle so as not to damage it with any of his weird clone juices. 

_Trust the voices in your head, open your mouth, and let the first words you speak be “Flaming Raging Poisoning Sword of Doom.”_

_P.S._

_(That means “Post Script” in case you learned that after you forgot. P.S. means post script.)_

_You’re gonna wanna smash that bad boy too. Smash that bad boy._

At least he knows for sure this letter is from Taako.

Magnus stuffs it into his new-old pocket of his new-old pants. He turns his attention instead to the blue stone in the middle of the room. With little second thought, he snatches the sapphire Taako has left him and crushes it within his fist. It’s surprisingly brittle. 

There is a glowing underneath the cracks of his fingers and a sensation that makes him want to run circles around the moon. With a mouth that feels oddly foreign to him, he croaks, “Flaming Raging Poisoning Sword of Doom.”

The moment it begins to materialize in his hands, he is thrown against a table. There’s a sharp pain in his shoulder. A blade.

It’s been five seconds and already he’s been stabbed. 

He swivels around, more than ready to fight his assailant, and—

And there’s nothing there.

He feels as if he’s lost something.

Still, from thin air, there’s a slash across his chest. The fabric surrounding it is soon wet with blood. Although he can’t see the thing doing this to him, he grips the handle of his sword and spins, casting flames across the room, setting more stuff on fire than what is probably optimal. Still, the blade snags on something in front of him— something he can’t see— before it at last clears it.

Not willing to waste any time, he runs out of the storage room, over the counter, kicks open the door leading onto the quad—

And it’s a massacre.

Everywhere, there are familiar faces defending themselves against the invisible assailants that had been attacking Magnus. Some are flinging spells left and right, others are blindly swinging their swords and hammers and knives, and others still are fleeing as fast as they can. Most of them are wounded in some way— he notes a lot of black eyes and bloody noses. Some are hurt worse, with large cuts across stomachs and down the lengths of faces, and some are laying face down on the grass, still, unmoving, in a pool of blood.

He needs to find Taako and Merle.

Magnus scans the quad for any sign of them, searching for Taako’s hat or Merle’s tree arm, but instead spots someone else: Carey, who is busy fighting her attackers alongside her girlfriend.

He breaks into a sprint.

And then a long, red slash appears on Killian’s arm. She stumbles and falls.

Magnus’s heart begins to sink, but then a circle of frills rise from Carey’s neck, her shoulders tense, and her pupils become slits. She opens her mouth to reveal a set of sharp, white teeth, and from her throat there comes a stream of blue flame doused in lightning. With it, she creates a wall of fire, and within those walls, there is a brief, quiet peace.

When the flame at last dies, Carey is finishing wrapping Killian’s arm and Magnus has at last reached the two of them.

“Hello!” he calls across the short expanse of grass between them. “Hail and well met!”

Carey looks up at him. Her eyes widen as she rises to her feet, and she, too, begins sprinting towards him. Magnus opens his arms, and—

And is promptly decked in the face.

He brings a hand to the side where she hit, just below the eye and next to the nose. “Ow!”

“How did you—” she says, searching him with her eyes, scanning his features. He can’t tell if she’s confused or relieved or delighted or filled with rage or all four. “Why— why did you—”

“I’ll explain later,” he tells her. “Right now, we’ve got to get to the Director. After that, I promise I’ll tell you all about why I’m here and how I’m here and what happened to me. All I need for you to do is trust me.”

Carey smiles. In lieu of replying, she throws her arms around his neck and pulls him into a hug.

“I figure,” she says, quiet and soft, “that you took the big hit, didn’t you?”

-

The five of them are staring at a locked door protected by a keypad.

“Well,” says Merle, “I guess that’s that. It was fun while it lasted, you guys.”

“I mean, it’s only a door,” Kravitz says. “We could probably kick it in if we try hard enough.”

Lup snorts. “Yeah, okay, see where that gets you.”

He turns towards Lup, his brow drawn, his arms crossed. “We could!”

“Well, don’t be shy, then.” She gestures towards the heavy iron door, which she knows for a fact won’t move no matter how much force they apply to it. “Go on. Kick the door down.”

“Well, I can’t do it on my own—”

She fake-coughs. “Coward.”

Kravitz gasps, clearly offended, but then adjusts his tie, feigning indifference. “Okay,” he says, and she can hear the indignance in his voice, “watch me, then.”

He backs up until he’s nearly against the wall, then runs full speed into the door, at which point he springs up, leaps towards it, leg outstretched, at which point his foot makes contact with the door and he retracts it almost instantly, cradling it in his hands. In a pitch higher than the tone of voice he typically uses, he says, “Maybe we should try something else.”

Lup shrugs. “I mean, if you want to, yeah. Or you could try that again. It seems like a pretty good plan to me.”

“No,” he says. “No. I’m good. Thanks.”

Taako smiles, crosses his arms, and says, “Actually, being the resident genius wizard, I’ve got a solution.” He reaches a hand into one of his pockets and digs around, then freezes. He lifts his hand, chooses another pocket, and again digs around. Freezes. Lifts his hand and puts it in another pocket. Freezes. He lifts the inside of his cloak closer to his face, checking the pockets. “Where is it?”

She bites the corners of her lips to keep herself from laughing. “Where’s what?”

“My Hole Thrower. I had— I had a Hole Thrower here,” he tells her. “It was— it was this little slingshot. I _know_ I had it.”

She glances over to Angus, who has his guilt written all over his face. His brow is upturned, his lips are quivering, his shoulders are scrunched together, and he’s doing the definition of puppy dog eyes, intentionally or not. With a quiet, trembling voice, he says, “Sir?”

Taako, barely glancing up from his search, says, “Uh-huh, Ango?”

“I—” He fiddles with his thumbs. “I… I may have… Um… I may have… taken it.” 

In his eyes, Lup can see Taako’s heart swelling, and she at last knows what it looked like to outside observers when the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes.

He sets a hand on Angus’s shoulder, nods, and chokes out, “Rad.”

Angus’s embarrassed frown begins to morph into a grin, but he still keeps his eyes pointed at the ground as he says, “I’m sorry, sir, I… I broke it.”

She watches as Taako, who does not cry, blinks back tears. _“And_ property damage?”

Merle pipes up with, “Well, if we can’t use Taako’s Hole-Throwy, I always have Nitpicker.”

Lup furrows her brow. “Nitpicker?”

He grins, placing his hands on his hips, proud of the opportunity to be of use. “He picks locks. And bullies people. I think you’d like him, Lup.”

“I probably would,” she says. “Can he pick keypad locks, though?”

Merle’s self-satisfied smile quickly changes into that of contemplation. “Uh…”

She takes another glance at the keypad. Seven empty lines stare back at her. “You know what? It’s all good. I think I know the code.”

“What?” he asks. “What is it?”

Instead of answering, Lup steps up to the keypad. Before the relics, before they discovered immortality, before even the mongoose language and the animal kingdom and the moment they first stepped foot in another plane, there was the Hunger’s first consumption. Or, at least, its first consumption as they saw it— they couldn’t be there to watch the demise of other planes, other worlds, other homes, couldn’t even try to save them. They stared, helpless, trembling, as a dark, swirling mass overtook their planet, absorbing it into itself, killing every last person on its surface. Friends. Family. Coworkers. The lady who grinned at her on her way to the Starblaster launch that morning. The reporters outside the window. The librarian who never bothered her about her outstanding late fees. Everyone, everything, crushed and molded from individuals with life and purpose into something new, something better, something that would destroy and maim and kill and call it unifying.

Lucretia had three siblings and a set of parents.

She watched the black tar crawl across the oceans and the rivers, rip the trees from their roots, reach its hands across and inch by inch decimate the world she loved. The people within. 

And so, that night, Lucretia made her first entry. Scrawled in the top of the first page of a leatherbound journal, once empty, now filled, is a plea for mercy. Or a testament to hope. 

On that page is what used to be friends, family, coworkers, now reduced to a single seven digit number: 8,596,192.

Lup punches it in. 8,596,192.

The door opens.

There is silence among the group. Merle asks, quiet, “How’d you do that?

She offers a grin at him, but there’s not much energy behind it. “Intuition,” she lies, before turning her attention to the rest of the group. “Should we go inside?”

There’s no answer. Only stares. And, so, Lup takes the leap.

Lup steps into the room.

The inside is barren. There’s a desk stacked with journals, two of which lay open to blank pages, two inkwells and quills sat on either side of them. In the corner is a bed, a simple twin mattress with a simple blue comforter, neatly made. Beside it is something she wasn’t sure she’d ever see— something she has been desperately needing to see, just to know it was real. A tank filled with a swirling, dark liquid, reminiscent of stars, inside of which is a small jellyfish, whose head is made of swirling, dark colors, reminiscent of galaxies.

Deep in her chest, she swears she feels her heart beat, if only for a second.

Her eye catches on the corner of the desk, on which is a disk. Suspended above the disk is a holy symbol. Lup has never known Lucretia to be a holy woman, nor does she think Lucretia’s ever adopted a god, but she can feel the radiance of the symbol’s power beating down on her skin. The subtle warmth of it feels similar to a burn she felt months ago, although less intense— a burn that accompanied the swing of a Reaper’s scythe, way back in the desert of Goldcliff— and she finally sees it for what it is. A ward against liches.

She points at it. “We need to destroy that.”

“Oh,” says Barry, “I can—”

She rips her gaze from the symbol to look at him. “Barry, you stay right there. Don’t touch it.”

Merle peers into the room. “What is it?”

Before she can reply, Kravitz says, “A ward. A ward to protect against liches.”

Lup turns her focus to him. He’s staring at the ward. For the first time, she can’t tell what he’s thinking.

Merle narrows his eyes. “You’re a Grim Reaper, aren’t you? Aren’t lich wards a good thing?”

Instead of answering, he approaches the ward floating above the desk. For a moment, he only watches it. Takes in the radiant magic it emanates. And then he reaches out, grasps it in the palm of his hand, and crushes it. 

Almost immediately, Lup feels the magic aura drop. Not drain. Not dissipate. Not gradually ebb away. She feels it drop. 

Kravitz dusts the ash off his hands. “Problem solved,” he says, a smile on his face.

A few months ago, he wouldn’t have done that. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have let her anywhere near that ward for fear she would smash it. He would’ve gotten a ward for his apartment. He would’ve carried one around his neck. And yet, here he is, an emissary of the Raven Queen, killer of death criminals, with the dust of a newly-broken holy symbol on his hands. Kravitz, a lich-hunter, has destroyed a lich ward.

She feels her heart swell. 

Quiet, but still grinning, she says, “Thanks, man.”

He shoots her a smile back. 

From the doorway, Barry asks, “Uh, can I come in now?”

“Yeah, it’s safe,” she says. “Baby proofed and everything. Come on, everybody.”

In trickles Barry, then Merle, then Taako, then Angus, all four of which cautiously scan their surrounding environment. It doesn’t take long for them to notice the Voidfish in the corner.

Merle is the first to comment on it. “Does anyone else see that?”

“The orb of light?” asks Taako. “Yeah. It’s, uh, really bouncing around in there.”

Right. They can’t see it.

But they will. They’re going to.

“I’m going to ask you guys to do something,” she says, approaching the tank. “I need you to trust me on it.”

The four of them share a look between one another. 

“Barry.” She gestures towards the top of the tank, which is open, the fluid inside easily accessible. “Drink this.”

He eyes the tank warily. She can see the discomfort written on his face. “I… don’t know if I should.”

Lup steps closer to him, takes his hands in hers, and stares him straight in the eye. His cheeks go red in a matter of seconds. His eyes widen. He stares back. “Barry.” She gives his hands a squeeze in an effort to calm him. Ground him. Offer familiarity. Something. Anything. “Trust me.”

A few moments pass in which they’re just staring at one another, just waiting, until at last Barry nods. He approaches the tank, taking careful steps, as if he’s afraid. Rather, he _is_ afraid— Lup can tell by the way his chest has stopped rising and falling, by the slight frown on his lips, by the rigidity of his movements, of his fingers as they fold together, of his hands as they connect in the shape of a bowl. He’s afraid when he dips his palms into the water, the way the surface doesn’t quite ripple like real water does, but is instead slowed, subdued, like a wave through gelatin that hasn’t quite solidified. He’s afraid when the alarm goes off, the ringing of the bell, over and over and over again, high-pitched and loud and awful. He’s afraid when he lifts his hands to his mouth and drinks, drops gliding off his fingers, leaking through the cracks between, and splattering onto the floor, and when he swallows, he stumbles backwards. Lup is there to catch him. She always will be.

“You’re okay,” she tells him, and she means it. “You’re okay.”

There is fear in his eyes, like there has been since the moment they met. Barry is afraid. Afraid, but not without courage. 

At last the fear melts and is replaced with something warmer.

He scans her face like it’s the first time he’s ever seen it before. Reaches up to touch her. She leans into his palm. It’s nice, she thinks. Being with him, no matter the current circumstances. 

His voice a croak, he asks, “Lup?”

Lup feels tears sting at the corners of her eyes. She lets them fall. He’s back. He’s back and he’s in his body and he is warm, he is so warm, and she can feel that same warmth in her chest, and all she wants to do is hold him forever and longer. She has needed to hold him for so long. Needed to hug him. And so she does.

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close. She lets him.

She plants a kiss to his lips. He kisses back. And there is no fog flesh, no cold, no lips clashing with the bare bone of his skull, no careful treatment of his not-body and no fear of it collapsing under the pressure of her hands. He’s here again. He’s here and she will hug him as hard as she pleases, press her head into the crook of his neck as hard as she pleases, kiss him as hard as she pleases, because she can and she needs to. She needs him. She’s needed him for a long time.

The alarm still wails.

“I missed you,” he says, above its high-pitched squealing. “I missed you so much, Lup.”

She feels herself break into a crooked grin. “I missed you, too.”

And they stay like that for a while— wrapped in each other’s arms, taking comfort in each other’s presence, enjoying a moment of peace amidst the chaos. Eventually, they break apart, but Barry is still grinning at her and Lup is still grinning at him and she loves him, loves him so so much, and his smile— his real smile, his genuine smile, a smile not inhibited by the constraints of a lich form or the puzzlement of an incomplete memory— she’s missed his smile. 

Merle says, “I don’t— I don’t get it.”

Lup turns to him. “What?”

“Is this—?” He stares into the depths of the tank. “Is it from the— from—” His face twists into confusion, his brow knitting together, his lips pursing. Another truth lost, she presumes. 

She approaches him. Lays a hand on his shoulder. “You just have to find out.”

He glances up at her. There’s no fear in his eyes.

Still, Angus tugs on his sleeve. “I’ll do it with you, sir.”

And Merle, who, in Lup’s opinion, hasn’t seemed too fond of Angus so far, smiles at him. “Thanks, kid.”

Merle and Angus each dip their palms into the water and drink.

Angus waits for a moment before his brow furrows. “I don’t feel different—”

And then Merle stumbles backwards, nearly tripping over himself. Lup catches him before he falls to the ground. He blinks, once, twice, stares ahead with a milky gaze, too distant to reach, and yet she still asks, “Merle?”

He doesn’t reply, of course. Not yet. He’s not like Barry— he hasn’t remembered in a long time. These are thousands upon thousands of memories, all crawling back into his brain, rooting there, staying there. It’ll take a while for them to settle. When they do, she’ll be here.

Eventually, his gaze flickers across the room. Awareness seeps back into his eyes. He looks at her and no longer seems so confused.

“Welcome back, old man,” she says.

He responds with a smile. Within the slight upturn of his lips, in the softness of his eyes, she sees glimmers of the old Merle. “I’m not _that_ old.”

She watches as his gaze drifts across the room until it at last catches on something behind her and his smile drops. She turns around to see Taako, standing off to the side, away from her, from Barry, from Kravitz, his arms crossed, his cloak pulled tight around him. She’s seen every expression Taako has ever made. Every face he’s ever pulled. She knows nausea when she sees it. She knows the cause. This, though— this is a kind of discomfort she’s never quite seen before. 

She shares a look with Merle, with Barry, with Kravitz, and she knows this is it. 

Lup looks him in the eye. He looks away.

“Taako?” she asks.

He laughs, but it’s strained. So obviously forced. “Yeah, I’m not drinkin’ that. It’s— ha— You all dipped your nasty hands in there! That’s gross! That’s germy.”

She asks again, “Taako?”

“Nah, not for me. Not for Taako.” The corners of his lips twitch. “I don’t fuck with weird shit.”

She asks, once again, “Taako?”

“I’m not drinkin’ any of that, no way. Gross. Ha. Taako— Taako doesn’t need to get involved in more wild hijinks. Ha ha.” He shivers. Quieter, he says, “Taako’s good out here.”

One more time, she tries, “Taako—”

“I’m not doing it!” he snaps. “It’s— It’s not— I’m done!”

She attempts to approach him, to step towards him, but her feet feel like they’ve been weighted down by steel. “I—”

Taako cuts her off. “No! No. I’ve had enough of all this stuff you’ve dragged me through. I— I’m done with the running, I’m done with the Red Robe, I’m done with this— with this doppelganger shit. I can’t think about it! I can’t think about you! I’m tired of the headaches! I’m tired of the static! And now—” He takes a step backward. Lup can see him eyeing the door. “You’ve… you made them drink that stuff and they’ve changed. Barry’s changed. Merle’s changed. You have to realize how creepy that is. I mean— hah— Kravitz, back me up.”

Kravitz’s eyes shift between Lup and Taako. “Um…”

His eyes narrow. “Kravitz.”

‘“I…” He darts his gaze away from his. “There are things you don’t know.”

Taako’s lips purse. The corners of his lips twitch into a frown. “Okay. So you’ve been keeping things from me, too?”

Kravitz’s shoulders drop. “Taako—”

“Don’t you want answers?” Lup asks. “This is how you get your answers.”

“You could tell me.”

“I can’t!”

“You could find a _way!”_

“How am I supposed to tell you I’m your sister?” 

Taako squeezes his eyes shut, the frustration etched into his brows momentarily replaced by confusion. It’s the static. It’s always the static. So much has been ruined because of that fucking static. And here, Taako has a way to get rid of it. A way Lup is handing to him. And, yet, he’s refusing, because he’s stubborn and scared and an asshole.

Lup reaches across the gap between them and takes his hands in hers. A million pleas run through her mind, perch at the tip of her tongue, poke at her lips: _I need you to trust me. I need you to listen. I need you to remember._ All that comes out is, “I need you.”

Taako’s face fractures and divides into shards.

She asks, one last time, “Please.”

For a moment, she thinks he’ll leave. 

And then he brushes past her, dips his hands into the tank, and drinks.

It only takes seconds for Taako’s eyes to go blank. He sinks to his knees, clutching his head, and Lup rushes to hold him, to be near him, to let him know he’s safe. He doesn’t look at her. He probably doesn’t know she’s there. And yet, Lup wraps her arms around him and doesn’t let go. She’s never letting go again.

At last, his grip around his head loosens. She pulls away from him, breath caught in her throat, and watches as he blinks away the glassy look in his eyes. Trembling, Taako looks up at her.

He looks up at her, and his eyes are brimming with tears.

He looks up at her, and the _way_ he looks at her is different now.

Lup sees something in his gaze that she hasn’t seen for a long, long time.

Recognition.

He takes a deep, shallow breath. He opens his mouth, and for the first time since they were separated, he says her name like he’s meant to say it— like it’s a name that belongs to someone he would go to the ends of the planar system for and who would do the same for him. Like it’s a name that means something to him— not the name of a stranger, but the name of a sister. Like it’s a name he’ll never forget ever, ever again.

Taako’s eyes scan her face, searching, connecting. “Lup?”

She throws her arms around him.

And Taako hugs back.

“I missed you,” he tells her, but in his voice it comes out a tight whisper. 

“Yeah.” She can’t help the tears stinging at her eyelids. She can’t help letting them fall. “I missed you, too, dingus.”

He lets out a laugh. A sob creeps into it. “Missed you most, goofus.”

There’s a silence, and then he says, “Thanks. For coming back for me.”

“Taako,” she says, “I’d always come back for you. Come hell or high water.”

He chuckles. “Literal hell, in your case.”

“Aw, shut up,” she tells him, but she’s grinning.

When they finally, finally pull away, Lup sees newly different faces from the people she loves most. A kinder Merle. A softer Barry. A friendlier Kravitz. 

And, in front of her, her brother. The other piece of her heart, reunited again.

For the first time in years, she sees her family and they see her back.

And then the guards come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. u know how last chapter i said i wouldnt let myself update this late again. well. ahaha.  
> im very sorry yall :( i know two months with only two chapters Sucks and i feel really bad about it. in any case, im glad yall have stuck around this long-- hopefully the next update will come On Time, finally. i love yall and i hope you enjoyed this chapter!!! i've been real excited to get this one out there!!!!!  
> anyways. how are you guys? i hope youre well!! school has started up once again and i think i have set a new record for how many naps 1 person is able to take in a day. are u ever in the middle of homework and then u just pass out for like an hour. yeah  
> HOWEVER. i recently started playing outer worlds!!!!! i havent played in a hot minute because i spent like two hours trying to find where i was supposed to go for that quest in stellar nova, died 3000 times, before finally realizing i could ask nyoka if i was on the right path and when i finally got to that cave i started shooting at the big praying mantis bc i figured it'd be relatively easy, only to discover that i was severely underleveled and barely made a dent in its health. i lost so many bullets yall. so many. BUT i love parvati with my whole heart and would do anything for her. i bought this woman SOAP!!!!!!!  
> also!!! i got a new tumblr theme for the first time since 2015. can u BELIEVE it. i even have a special lil button on the search bar that'll lead you to my come hell or high water tag!!!! u should check it out if u ever wanna see how the fic is doing :D  
> NEXT CHAPTER: confrontation!!!! it's 11k. i thought it was like 8k at most. why do i keep doing this to myself  
> tumblr: nillial


	21. Family Reunion

Magnus arrives to noise.

He is in the middle of a dome and all there is is noise.

He hears shouting and voices breaking and thunder and walls creaking and so, so much static. His head pounds. He reaches a couple of fingers up to rub his forehead, to try to ease the pain there, but it does no good. 

Carey, over the shouts, the thunder, the static, asks, “Are you okay?”

He tries to reply, but he’s only able to open his mouth and let it hang there. 

Something is wrong. Everything is wrong. He can’t quite understand why— his mind feels like it’s spinning and his train of thought, his memories, float in the space around his head, all out of order. He tries to grab at them, to piece them back together to what they once were, but it doesn’t work. He’s lost. 

Carey asks again: “Magnus?”

His voice gets stuck before it reaches his lips and burns in the center of his throat. He chokes on it. He can’t talk to her right now. He doesn’t think he can talk to anyone. The static has overtaken the entirety of his brain, seized it, strangled it. His ears ring with a steady, high-pitched hum, and in his mind there’s only the tinny fuzziness of static. Static, static, static. He’s so sick of hearing static. 

Magnus’s vision fades in and out, in and out, blurring and clearing and blurring again. Beneath his feet, the ground is quaking. He considers joining it— considers sinking to his knees, to his hands, prostrating himself against cold tile and succumbing to the dirt below. Listening to it. Staying with it. Never getting up. He wonders if he  _ could  _ get up if he chose to lay down right now. He wonders if he cares at all. He can feel how close he is to passing out, to letting the quaking rock him to sleep, to ignoring the chaos in front of him, no matter how hard it tries to infiltrate his head. 

He feels a hand on his arm. Not Carey’s hand. Their hands are far too smooth and its nails far too short. Rather, this is a new hand. One he hasn’t felt before.

Or— has he? They feel familiar. 

His head pounds harder.

He opens his eyes and sees Barry. 

And yet it can’t be Barry. He’s different. He’s looking at him different. Like he knows him.

Magnus feels as if his skull is about to crack.

Barry holds up a cloak— Taako’s cloak— and presents him with an open pocket. Inside, there’s a swirling dark liquid, white flecks suspended within it. He notices that it’s strikingly similar to the waters of the Voidfish’s tank, but as soon as that thought is there, it’s gone.

“Drink this,” he tells him. 

Magnus blinks at him in lieu of any words. He shouldn’t. He can’t. This has to be some sort of deception from the invisible enemies he’s just encountered. Nothing is normal today.

And yet a shard of a memory tugs at his mind, begging to resurface. He can’t let it. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because there’s something in the way.

Again, Barry asks, “Drink this.” Magnus is about to indicate his refusal once again, but then he adds, “Drink this if you want to understand.”

Magnus hesitates.

And then he drinks.

-

The blaring of the alarm is distant in her ears. Muffled. She can barely hear it when she’s pulled from her brother’s arms. She can barely feel the guard’s hands gripping her shoulders. And then when she’s taken away— when she’s ripped from the family she’s just reunited with— it all comes back sharply into focus.

Lup is tugged down the hallway, her shoes squeaking against the white tile floor, leaving marks. She thrashes in their grip, punches upward and downward and kicks in every direction, but their hold doesn’t let up. She glances back at the people behind her— at Taako, at Kravitz, at Barry, at Merle, at Angus, all of which are fighting, in some way. All of which are scared.

She wriggles around in her captor’s grip. “Let me out,” she tells them through gritted teeth. Not as a request, but as a demand. 

They don’t respond. They only stare ahead, gaze set on the space in front of them, ignoring her pleas.

She pushes the magic lying inside of her, dormant, yet ready to combust at any moment, to her palms. Lup feels its journey to her forearms to her wrists to her hands like it’s liquid gold about to boil over. Runny. Slow. Hot. Her palms burn with it. 

“Let me go,” she says again, this time not as a request nor demand, but instead as a warning. 

They don’t listen.

She shoots her hands up, about to grasp them by the arms holding her down, about to burn them until their skin blisters, but just as she begins to move, she’s dropped unceremoniously onto the ground. 

The magic retreats back to its well. Her hands cool. In place of burning, there’s only an itch. 

She pushes herself up onto her elbows and decides to take a glance towards the raised platform in front of her. Of course, standing in its center is Lucretia, clutching her bulwark staff. Of course.

Above them, thunder booms and ripples. Cracks of lightning illuminate the entirety of the sky. The walls creak as if they’re about to collapse. She can’t bring herself to care. Not now. Not yet. Not when Lucretia is about to end the storm.

“Lucretia,” she rasps. “You can’t.”

Lucretia darts her eyes away from hers. In the light, she can just see a glint of tears. “I have to. For everybody.”

She’s about to argue— although it’s useless, and she knows that, Lucretia is going to cast her spell because she was always going to cast her spell and she worked for years to cast her spell and she’s  _ stubborn, _ so stubborn— but then she sees Davenport. 

She shares a look with Barry. 

“Taako,” she hears him whisper. “Give me your cloak.”

“What?” he asks.

“Your cloak,” he repeats. “The ichor.”

Taako’s eyes widen. He unclasps the button fixed around his neck, shuffles out of it, and gives it to Barry. He takes it. And then he stands.

The guards ready themselves. Lucretia holds out a hand to stop them. “You can leave. You’re— you’re all dismissed. Go. Go.”

They all look at one another, then follow her command. It doesn’t take long for them to file out of the room. Not many answered the alarm in the first place. 

Once they’ve cleared out, Lucretia lowers her hand. Her shoulders droop. Her posture slackens. She holds onto the staff for support, clutching it as if it’s the only thing keeping her alive. “Barry,” she asks, “what are you doing?”

“I’m doing what you didn’t.” He turns to Davenport, holding out the wad of fabric in his hands. “Davenport.”

Her eyes widen. “No— no, not yet, I can’t bring everyone back yet, it’s— it’s not in the plan, it’s—” 

“It’s over,” he tells her. 

Her brow scrunches. She clenches her teeth. She stands still, unmoving, with that look of silent desperation finally brimming to the surface. Lucretia breaks her gaze from Barry. And she lets him approach Davenport.

Barry leans down in front of him, cloak in hand, and offers up the ichor within it. “Come home, Captain.”

For a moment, Davenport only looks at him. And then he dips his hands into the pocket, brings them to his lips, and drinks deeply.

Lup watches Lucretia staring. She doesn’t seem to notice that anyone’s watching her. She’s too busy looking while Davenport drops to the floor, clutching his head. She’s too busy cradling hers. Although, she surmises her reason for nursing her head is not because of years and years worth of memories flooding back to her, but rather because of regret. Or, at least, something adjacent to it.

“I—” she says, already stumbling over the first words that leave her mouth. “I— I’m sorry. I’m—”

From his spot next to her, Taako shouts, “Are you? Are you sorry?”

She looks back at him, eyes once again glistening. 

He opens his mouth to shout once again, but is interrupted by Magnus. He enters the room, eyes wide and searching, but his brow drawn. His mouth is parted, if only slightly. Just enough to take in the scene in front of him. Just enough to feed the buffer keeping him from knowing the truth. 

Lucretia’s expression contorts into that of shock, of joy, and of confusion all at the same time. They morph together into a single wide-eyed face. “You’re—” she stutters. “You— I—” And then she clamps her mouth shut and gives up.

She watches as Barry gives Davenport’s shoulders one last squeeze. And then he gathers the cloak in his hands and makes his way to Magnus.

“Help them,” she says.

Lucretia turns to her. “What?”

“Help them!” she shouts, desperate, like a plea. “Help them remember!”

Lup watches as Lucretia looks at her surroundings— finally  _ looks  _ at them. At Merle. At Taako. At Magnus. People she knew, once. People she’s now trying to protect through any means necessary, even if the protection is no longer worth the price. At Kravitz. At Angus. At Carey. At Killian. People from this world. In the larger sense, they’re just another future casualty of the Hunger’s appetite. Another plane to leave. But now, Lup thinks, she sees a kind of familiarity in Lucretia’s face. A kind of fondness like she holds for the crew.

And then her gaze shifts to Lup. 

Lup stares back at her.

Lucretia used to look at her with a sort of awe— a childlike reverence reserved for personal heroes and popular best friends and older sisters. Now, the awe is gone. Lup is no longer a hero, or a popular best friend, or an older sister. Now, they’re both just tired.

“Help them,” she says. 

Lucretia looks back at them. At old friends. At a captain and a brother turned strangers.

And then she does what she does best.

She tells a story.

-

Avi is still in the hangar when the apocalypse begins.

Avi is also unarmed.

All he has is a flask (which he’s already drained at this point), a control booth to cower within, and a hope that whatever slashed at him earlier won’t end up breaking the glass. That hope, however, is steadily dwindling. The pounding on the walls around him is only getting louder, and every few minutes his invisible assailant likes to scare him with a big swing at the window. He thinks it likes to torment him. That it’s only doing this for its own pleasure. That it could have killed him and sucked the meat from his bones half an hour ago. 

All in all, his Friday night is going pretty well, he thinks.

There’s another thump at the glass. Avi covers his face once again, anticipating shattering followed by an agonizing murder, but nothing comes. Again. Part of him wishes it would just kill him already. 

He doesn’t understand why this is happening to him. He doesn’t understand where everyone is. His shift won’t be over for another few hours, and even when it is, he’s not sure that anyone will come to replace him. He’s not sure he’ll even survive leaving his control booth at all. Or he will, and for a minute he’ll feel safe, but then his attacker will just follow him, wait until he’s alone, and do what it has been trying to do this whole time.

Avi shudders.

He can’t help but wonder why it’s targeting him. What it is. If there are more.

He won’t know what to do if there are more.

Another swift hit at the glass before it goes back to pounding on the wall next to him. This one breaks him out of his thoughts, takes him by surprise, and he ends up backing against the wall and bumping into it hard. Pain centers in his wound and spreads throughout his back. He winces.

He reaches for the slash in his back. It’s stopped bleeding for the most part, although every now and then he’ll feel something warm trickling down his spine. He scratches at the edges of his open wound before at last retracting his hand. There’s flakes of red beneath his fingernails.

He wonders if it’ll get infected. It probably will. 

When it happened, he was staring through the glass wall at the front of the hangar, staring at the never-shifting sky in front of him. Although, he remembers thinking that somehow there weren’t as many stars. That they had somehow all blinked out and receded into the blackness of space. Maybe they had. Maybe he hadn’t noticed. He doesn’t notice most things.

And then came the pain.

When he looked around, there was no attacker to be found. And yet he felt something tug at his wrist. Dig into his veins. It didn’t take him long to sprint as fast as he possibly could to the safety of his control box. 

There’s another thump against the window. This time, a tiny fracture opens in the center.

Avi buries his head in his hands. He should just open the door. He should let it in. It’d be easier that way— maybe not a swifter death, as he doubts that something like this would even consider providing him with any kind of mercy, but a sooner death. It’s coming to him anyways. He should accept the inevitable. 

Avi stares at the door handle at the side of the box. 

He feels his hand lifting. Reaching out.

This is his end. He doesn’t want it to be, but it is. Nobody is coming for him. They never were. 

He places his fingers on the handle. He had hoped for a longer life, at least, but he supposes he got a decent one for the time he was allowed. Not many get to say they lived on the moon. Not many die to some invisible force, either. He’s just special, he supposes.

His fingers close around the handle. 

And then he hears a voice.

And it sounds familiar. 

It sounds like Johann.

He freezes in place, first scanning the tiny control box he’s standing in as if Johann could have snuck in there when he wasn’t looking, then peering through the windows, searching for him, expecting to see him. He’s not there. He doesn’t think he ever was. And yet— his voice— it’s his voice—

_ You can fight, _ it says.  _ You can fight. And you can win. I know you can.  _

It feels like a whisper, quiet, breathy, clinging to the edges of his brain. For a moment, he thinks he’s imagined it. The blood loss and imminent adrenaline crash has to catch up at some point, after all, and now is as good a time as any.

But then he hears it again, louder this time:  _ You can fight, Avi. _

There’s a thump at the window. This time, it breaks.

He could accept his fate. He could just let the thing out there kill him, or, rather, ruthlessly torture him before leaving him for dead. 

But there is a shard of glass on the ground. And Avi can fight.

He leans down and lifts the shard from its place on the floor below, clutching it tight in his palm. He feels it slice at his hand, if only a little. A dribble of blood, warm and crimson red, slides down the side of it, staining its otherwise transparent exterior. The cut barely stings. It’s the back injury he needs to worry about. 

Suddenly, there’s a pressure in both his shoulders, pushing him back, and then he’s pinned to the back wall of the control room. His wound presses against the surface, sending pain spreading throughout his body. He squeezes his eyes shut, writhing in its grip, and—

And when he opens his eyes, his assailant is no longer invisible. It’s made of shadow.

Avi lifts the shard in his hand, and at long last, he rears back and stabs.

Its grip loosens. Its fingers tremble on his shoulders before its form at long last dissipates.

He slides down the wall and all the way to the floor. He’s vulnerable. Yet, nothing comes to attack him. 

He’s safe. Avi is safe.

Somewhere in the distance, he hears violins.

-

By the time Lucretia finishes her story, the blankness in Magnus and Davenport’s eyes have dissipated and instead have been replaced with the heaviness of a knowledge they’ve forgotten. Lup watches Davenport examine the sky, the people around him, Lucretia herself, as if each one had been drenched in new meaning. She supposes they have. 

He struggles to his feet. Stares her in the eye. Stands in the silence they’ve created. And then he asks, “Lucretia, what have you done?”

Lucretia takes a deep breath, gripping her staff so tight that Lup can see the skin stretched thin over her knuckles. Her mouth twists into a frown, her brow furrows, her eyes fill to the brim with tears, and she gives him his answer. “What I had to.”

And then the doors burst open.

The wood that comprises them splinters, bends and breaks in half and drops onto the floor with a useless _thunk._ A creature of shadow, of tar and veins of light that zip back and forth within the cracks of their skin, steps forward. They leave behind them a wet footprint, dark, one that stains the spot behind them with an inky black. They lift their arm— or what looks like an arm— and with it drips that tar, that black sludge, splattering onto the floor. It still moves once it reaches the ground. Like a chicken without its head.

More follow behind it— Zombies born of darkness and tar and mindless vengeance. She knows them. She knows them because she’s seen them before— products of the Hunger. Agents of its desire. And right now, The Hunger desires to kill them. 

“Miss?” asks Angus from behind her, his voice pitched high. “What are those?”

She lifts her hands and wills them to light. Fire springs from her palm and wraps around her wrists, creating a flickering flame the size of her head. “It’s okay,” she tells him, although it’s not okay. “These are just a few monsters. We can take them.”

Of course, that’s when the ceiling cracks open.

From the sky descends a pillar of darkness, in which shadows squirm and writhe and tangle in thin streaks of color, choking on them. It plants itself firmly in the center of the room, rooting into the tile. The floor surrounding it peels up, sending shards skidding across the remaining intact flooring. From it, the shadows wriggle their way out of the pillar, crawling over each other, clawing at the floor, leaving streaks of tar. They open their mouths to reveal a gaping hole of slime and void, strings of what would be their lips sticking together, and release a roar that’s more of a wet gurgle, flinging specks of sludge through the air.

Once again, it’s the end of the world.

Once again, they’re severely underprepared.

“Okay,” says Lup. “Maybe more than a few monsters.”

Angus backs further into the small crowd they’ve accumulated, ducking between Kravitz and Merle, timidly brandishing his wand. “Miss, I— I don’t mean to, um— Miss, I know I said some things earlier about, uh, having a crossbow and being capable of murder, and— and Miss, I am capable of defending myself against monsters, I’m not— I’m not a baby—” His voice begins to waver. “This is a lot.”

“No worries, kid.” She lifts her hands and feels the fire surging through her veins, through her blood, gathering in her palm and flickering alight. “I’m the world’s best wizard  _ and  _ I’m unkillable. You’ve basically got God on your side.”

Kravitz cuts in with, “Lup, I know the Raven Queen isn’t here right now, but somehow I get the feeling she wouldn’t appreciate you calling yourself God because of powers she gave you.”

“Ah, it’s fine. I’m taking over as Goddess of the Astral Plane in the interim. I’m sure she won’t mind.” She blasts an oncoming enemy with a Fireball, knocking them back into the far wall. They dissipate into smoke, leaving only a puddle of tar. 

“Kinda doing a shit job at keeping the Astral Plane in check right now,” he tells her. “If you’re claiming it for yourself while she’s gone, you’ve gotta be the one to explain why it’s flooded when she comes back.”

Another Fireball. Another enemy gone. “You could help me out instead of complaining about my housesitting skills, Kravitz.”

“I would.” He holds up a hand and, as if to prove a point, tries to summon a scythe. It flickers for a few seconds before disappearing. “If I weren’t cut off. You got a solution for that, Interim Astral Plane Goddess?”

Scowling, she casts another Fireball at an approaching shadow that was just about to sink its claws into Kravitz. “I’m assuming you don’t have any spells either, Merle?”

“Pan ain’t answering,” he says, then slumps his shoulders. “He never picks up when I call.”

She glances over her shoulder at her brother, who stands beside her, fists clenched. “Taako? Could you do something?”

He doesn’t seem to hear her. He barely seems to register the chaos surrounding him. His attention is focused on Lucretia. 

She narrows her eyes. “Taako?”

He breaks his silence not to respond to Lup, but to point a finger at Lucretia. His hands tremble. Under the skin of his wrist, she sees a faint purple-blue glow. Magic.

“You knew,” he says. It’s quiet, said through clenched teeth, just barely audible enough to be heard over the noise. 

Lucretia only stares back at him. “What?”

“You knew,” he repeats, louder this time, shoulders tensed and raised. “You knew about the umbrella.”

“I—” Her eyes soften. “I didn’t know she was there, I swear—”

“You knew it was hers,” he snaps, and he might as well be snarling. 

“I…” She opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, before ultimately deciding to close it. 

“When she came here,” he says, the tremble in his voice growing, “she asked me about  _ you _ . She went to see _ you.” _

“Taako—”

“You saw her. You knew she talked to me and you didn’t tell me she was my sister.”

“You wouldn’t have understood!”

“Did you think she was dead?”

“I—”

“Did you even look?”

“I did! I—”

“No! Because  _ I  _ was looking!  _ I  _ was searching!  _ I  _ was the one who wanted to find her! And then you  _ took  _ that from me! You took my  _ sister  _ from me!”

“You were going to end up dead if you kept going the way you were!”

_ “I wouldn’t fucking care if I did! _ ” he shouts, and he is shaking, the quiet rage within him gone, converted into something less passive and more aggressive. “All this time I  _ knew  _ something was missing! I knew it! And you just left me alone to— to fuckin’--  _ live  _ like that. To live without her.”

“I’m sorry,” she tells him, and Lup knows from the look on her face and crack in her voice that she means it. “I’m so sorry, Taako.”

“You’re sorry.” His hands are in fists. “You stopped me from finding her. You stopped me, and then when she finally showed up again, you let me treat her like a stranger. It’s all your fucking fault. This—” He gestures to the chaos ensuing around them, the shadows slowly creeping closer to them, the tendril in the middle of the room writhing, as well as the group of people surrounding him, old memories returned. “-- is all your fucking fault.”

Her grip around her staff tightens. She looks at the ground. “I know.”

“You don’t,” he says. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose family.”

An expression that Lup can’t quite read crosses Lucretia’s face. She looks away just as quickly as it appears. 

He continues. “I looked, and looked, and looked, and when I found her— when I finally found her— I didn’t know. I knew something was gone but I didn’t know it was her. You kept that from me! You kept my sister from me!” His speech grows more rapid, louder. “I could’ve known her! I could’ve  _ found  _ her! Something was missing this whole goddamn time and she was right in front of me!”

Lup is about to reach for him, to tell him she’s okay, but it’s Merle who gets to him first. It’s Merle who grasps him by the arm, directing his attention towards him, and says, “She is right in front of you.”

Taako scowls. And then he reluctantly takes a step backwards.

Lucretia, seemingly having realized that Taako has, for now, tabled this conversation, takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she says one more time, as if it will help the situation. Lup gets the feeling that Lucretia knows it won’t. 

The shadows inch closer. Their fingers dig into the ground below them, trembling with effort as they pull themself across the floor. Closer. Closer. 

Davenport’s voice breaks her attention. “Lucretia, where’s the ship?”

There’s a flash of fear in her eyes. “Why?”

He sighs. “Lucretia,” he says, “we have to leave.”

Lup feels her blood run cold. She spares a look at Kravitz— at her best friend— and she’s known from the beginning that this was the last world, that they wouldn’t start over, that they couldn’t, but he’s solidified that. She’s not leaving him here to die. She can’t. She’d sooner stay and let the Hunger take her whole. “We aren’t going anywhere,” she says, her gaze not leaving Kravitz. For Davenport, it’s a demand. For Kravitz, it’s a promise.

“The plan didn’t work, Lup,” Davenport says. “This is what we agreed. If it didn’t work out, we’d start over.”

“We’re not,” Lucretia cuts in, “doing this to another world. I won’t let us.”

Davenport shifts his gaze to her. “Lucretia, if we leave, we can form a new plan. One that doesn’t involve a barrier or relics or casualties. These past twelve years would be gone and we could start all over again. We could live new lives.”

“This  _ is  _ the ‘new plan.’ These  _ are  _ our ‘new lives’,” she tells him. “I knew what this plan would do the moment I set it into motion. I knew it was going to hurt. I knew what I was giving up and I knew why I was doing it. We have too much blood on our hands, Captain, and we can’t wash them only to bloody them all over again.”

Davenport sighs. “But—”

“We can’t just run away,” Merle says. “I’ve got  _ kids.” _

“I’ve got a  _ wife,” _ says Magnus. 

From behind them, Angus squeaks, “I don’t want you guys to leave.”

God. She hates it when kids tug at her heartstrings. She doesn’t even  _ know  _ this one. She met it half an hour ago. 

And yet, Lup leans down to her knees, leveling herself with him as she rests her hands on his shoulders. “No one is going anywhere.”

He sniffles and nods. She can tell he’s trying his best not to cry, but it isn’t working out so well.

Lup stands and turns to address Davenport. To defy orders from her Captain for the thousandth time in the past century. “We’re staying,” she tells him. She means it as a demand.

Davenport shoots her a glare. “We can’t. If we get stuck here, it’s all over. You aren’t looking at the greater picture, Lup, and it’s blinding you.” He pauses, and for a moment, the stern expression he’s wearing breaks through to betray sympathy. “I’m sorry.” 

It’s Taako who speaks up this time— Taako, who has never been one for attachment, who has never stuck around one place in their lives, who has always, always suggested running before. He swallows his rage and glances up, if only for a moment. “Lucretia, don’t tell him where the Starblaster is.”

She only nods. She wouldn’t tell. She was never going to.

He throws his hands up. “Fine! Fine. We can stay here and cut ourselves off from the other planes. If we don’t die first, I mean.”

Kravitz’s brow furrows. “Lup, what does he mean ‘cut ourselves off from the other planes?’”

She sucks in a breath through her teeth. He’s not going to like this answer. “Well, bud—”

“Hey, everybody?” says Carey from the outskirts of the group. “This all sounds like some very important static noises, but I don’t think we’re focusing on the problem at hand.” She gestures towards the advancing Hunger and its shadows, creeping closer, clawing their way out of the tendril that descended earlier. They’ve gotten much too close for comfort, in Lup’s opinion, and they’re only getting closer. Multiplying. Meanwhile, she’s one of the few people in the room who still have access to magic. 

She’ll protect them. She has to protect them.

She wills fire to her palm. 

And then she unleashes it.

-

Pringles is not okay.

In the same day, he’s gained prison buddies, escaped prison with said prison buddies, then was thrust into the middle of what he can only assume is an apocalypse, unless things got real fuckshit wild in the middle of his sentence. Either way, the invisible assassin thing is new to him, and he’s not quite sure how to deal with it. All he knows is that he’s gonna be pretty upset if he gets killed immediately after breaking out of jail.

He holds his hand over the small slash wound on his arm, ignoring the lesser scratches he received earlier. It’s still painful, and there’s still some blood that hasn't dried, but he’ll be fine. He just has to keep running. Even if he can’t fight, at least he’s good at fleeing. Otherwise, those relatively minor wounds would probably be a lot more concerning.

He sprints through the hallways, trying to navigate territory he hasn’t tread in months. The Bureau is all but empty, save for the occasional corpse. He needs to get out of here. Fast. Maybe he can figure out how to work the pods to Faerun and he can finally escape this nightmare.

Assuming, that is, that the apocalypse hasn’t reached Faerun as well.

Pringles gets the sneaking suspicion that he’s fucked.

Just as he’s about to round another corner, he’s knocked backwards by a force he can’t see. Right as his head bounces off the tile, he feels something sharp slice into the side of his face, just along his cheek, but he doesn’t see what does it. He doesn’t see who. All he sees is the red beginning to pool next to his head. 

He lifts a leg and gives a swift kick upwards, hoping to hit something. He does, and the invisible attacker’s grip on him gives, if only for a moment. It gives him the opportunity to wriggle himself free and break into yet another sprint.

This isn’t going well. This isn’t going well at all. He’s a prison escapee on the moon, of which there is one very small community currently being decimated by invisible serial killers. If he doesn’t die, he’s going to be found out and tossed in the brig for the rest of his life. 

He stumbles across a door. Without thinking, he swings it open and steps through, slamming it behind him. The room engulfs him in darkness. He presses his hands against the walls, feeling around for a switch, and when his fingers eventually find it, the lightbulb flickers on to reveal a dimly lit broom closet, complete with shelves on shelves of cleaning products, disinfectants, and worn rags. In the corner are a few brooms and mops, all of which look well-used.

Well. At least if the invisible assassins find him here, he’ll be stocked on cleaning supplies.

He runs a hand through his hair. Who is he kidding? He’s not cut out for the type of work the Bureau demands. He’s not brave enough to go on death-defying missions to save the world. He’s too dumb to work out where the relics are and how best to reach them. He’s not perceptive enough to do inside investigative work on the ground. He could barely scrape by as a competent accountant before he was given a prison sentence for committing a crime he can’t recall committing. And now he’s here. In a broom closet. Cowering.

He should have never taken a job here. He could’ve made a living in Faerun. He could’ve had a normal life. Instead, he’s spent the last few months rotting in jail for treason against the secret moon organization he’s employed for. They believe him capable of spying and blackmail after he spent years knowing nothing about them except their payroll information. He’s a goddamn  _ accountant  _ named  _ Pringles  _ who spends his time making stupid potions and selling weed.

He breathes, in and out, in and out, in and out. This is too much for him. He escaped moon jail five minutes ago with the help of a kid and some stranger. And they just left him there— left him to fend against an apocalypse he didn’t know was coming. How long has it been going on, he wonders? Did anyone know? Did anyone try to stop it? Did anyone remember him?

He slides down the door he’s leaning against, defeated. He’s not sure how much longer he’s going to last out here. Maybe he should just slip back into his cell and pretend he never left. It was safer there, evidently. 

Above him, one of the door’s wooden panels splinters from what he can only assume is a hit from one of the invisible murderers that have been stalking him. He hugs his knees closer to his face. He’s fucked. He’s fucked, he’s fucked, he’s fucked. He’s been fucked since the moment he joined the Bureau, since the moment he decided to do dangerous work for fun and profit, since the moment he stepped onto this godforsaken fake moon and drank that godforsaken jellyfish juice. And now he’s going to pay for his mistakes.

He squeezes his eyes shut, expecting a sharp pain in his back and blood on the floor, but nothing comes. Nothing happens.

Instead, he swears he starts to hear music. 

The tune is unfamiliar, he thinks, some song he’s never heard before, and yet it sounds so— right. Like it was meant for his ears. He could sit and listen forever, if there weren’t things trying to kill him right now.

He hears a whisper tickle his ear. He feels as if this voice, too, is similar. It tells him, _Don’t give up now._ It tells him, _ They care. _

From anyone else— from anywhere else— he wouldn’t believe it. He’d dismiss it if given the chance. And yet there’s something so familiar about the voice.

Maybe not everyone has forgotten him.

He takes one last deep breath. He can leave this broom closet, he thinks. He can leave it and instead of cowering, he can help.

Pringles opens the door.

-

Lup sticks her boot into the skull of a shadow, pressing against it until her foot breaks through. There’s no crack, no squelching noise, no gruesome splattering of blood and innards. Only mist dissipating under the heel of her shoe and the puddle of tar it leaves behind. 

Behind her, she feels claws whiz past her arm, threatening to sink into her skin. She reaches out, grasps it by the wrist, and snaps its arm over her knee. It, too, vanishes into the air, leaving tar to stain her hands.

Just as she’s about to check in on the rest of the crew, she feels fingers around her ankle. She leans backwards, elbow out, then throws her weight onto the floor, aiming for the shadow’s torso. She slams it to the ground. It squeaks out something through the bone dry of its throat, through the tar clogging its esophagus, and then it’s gone. The tile collides with her elbow, sending pain coursing through her arm, up into her shoulder. It doesn’t break. Nothing ever does anymore. She reaches her hand out to cradle it, if only for a moment. 

And then comes the nausea.

Her stomach flips. The feeling of rising vomit works its way into her throat in a fraction of a second. Her cheeks puff out. She has no time to rationalize the nausea’s arrival nor can she properly anticipate its outcome. Instead, her form— flickers.

The arm she’s staring at, the arm she’s trying to cradle, vanishes out of existence, if only for a second, and she goes with it. For only a moment, she’s in that white space, that distant  viewer perspective that she saw back in the Miller’s Lab when she first learned to shed her form. She’s fading. Her physical form is fading. The Raven Queen is gone, and so are the powers that gave her a body to protect the soul within. 

This cannot be good. 

Then again, so are thousands of shadow enemies and the imminent apocalypse. So long as she can still fight— and she can, for now— they can still win this. She tables her concern for her disappearing body for later. They’ve got bigger things on their hands. 

Namely, the gigantic shadow of a rhinoceros that has just crawled its way out of the Hunger’s tendril and which is now charging at Angus.

She watches as Angus takes out his twig of a wand and points it at the shadow, trembling, only for sparks to burst from the other end. By the time he’s opened his mouth in order to cry out for help, she’s already sprinted her way over, ignoring the countless Hunger shadows trying to catch her in their grip. She grasps him by the back of his shirt collar and pulls him out of the rhino’s way. It collides with the wall in front of it, sending a tremor through the walls and to the ground they stand on. 

“Are you okay?” she asks him. 

“I’m— fine,” he tells her, but his voice is shaking. “Thank— Thank you, Miss— Miss Lup.”

She sticks a hand in his hair and ruffles it.

Lup turns her attention to the pillar in the center of the room, through which the Hunger’s shadows are coming through. They writhe in it, reaching out, breaking through, slime and tar stretching thin across their fingers, like trying to claw out of a caul from within. This, she thinks, is where most of the attackers in this room have been originating from. They need to destroy it. Somehow.

She nudges Angus with her elbow. “Kid, how many spells do you know?”

“Um…” He holds out a hand and begins to count on his fingers.

“Nevermind,” she says. He’s a literal fresh-out-of-the-womb infant. She doesn’t know why she expected him to blow up the apocalypse. 

It’s fine. It will be fine. She can figure this out on her own.

The rhinoceros shadow finally wriggles its way out of the wall in which it rammed itself into. Once its horns are freed from the holes of crumbling drywall it created, it shakes its head and stomps on the ground, cracking the tile even further. This place is going to need to be fully renovated. She pities Lucretia’s wallet. 

“Miss,” Angus says, tugging hard at her sleeves, the fabric bunching in his fists. “Miss, it’s— it’s going to charge again!”

She extends a hand not toward the rhinoceros, but toward the pillar, charging up a Prismatic Spray. It’ll be easier to take it down once the rest are gone, too. After all, their spell slots will run out eventually and the Hunger is only going to keep sending shadows after them. “It’ll be fine, kid.”

He looks up at her— at her hand, aimed towards the center of the room. “Um— Miss?”

“We can deal with that problem once we’ve handled the source.”

He asks, panic crawling into his voice, “Miss?”

“I can squash that rhino no problem, Angus. Nothin’ to worry about.”

And then, a yell: “Miss!”

She turns towards him, ready to ask what he wants, but the words don’t have a chance to leave her mouth. The rhino appears inches from her face, horns pointed directly at her. Just as she shoves Angus away, a force slams in her body, sending her skidding across the tile. The point of the horn just narrowly misses her torso, instead slicing into her right arm, the pain of which is only irritated when she’s thrown onto the ground, sliding across broken flooring. When she at last comes to an abrupt halt at the far wall, she instinctively reaches her hand to where her wound should be, even though she knows she can’t be hurt.

To her surprise, she feels a wetness.

Trembling, she moves her palm away. It’s stained in something dark— something too thin to be blood yet too thick to be anything else. Something like the waters of the Sea of Souls. 

Her form flickers once again.

“No,” she breathes. “No, no, no, no.”

She looks up. The rhino is getting ready to charge again.

Lup is going to die.

Lup is immortal and she’s going to die.

She has died a million times and then a million more, but none of them have ever been final. None of them have ever meant anything. She used to fear death, used to have that instinct etched into her brain, into the edges of her soul, but when that factor was eliminated— when she could die every year and come back the same, when she could walk the world as a ghost, when she could become an agent for Death itself— it could no longer hurt her. It could no longer stalk her from every corner, no longer wait and watch her in her worst moments, no longer poke at her and pinch her just to let it know it was still there. She had control. And she could use everything in her power to help without fear of harming herself.

But now that immortality is gone. Now the Raven Queen has left. Now she’s nothing but a weakened spirit with no flesh and no blood and none of the things that make people tough yet all of the things that make them vulnerable.

It had to catch up to her at some point. It always had to catch up to her at some point.

She braces for impact.

And she waits. 

And she waits.

And she waits.

Nothing comes.

She hazards to open an eye, only to see Kravitz— her Kravitz— guarding her with a broken slab of tile, using it as a shield. It’s nothing. It shouldn’t be enough to hold off the Hunger. And yet he brandishes it as if it will— as if the shadows will just see it and lay down their arms. As if their attacks will bounce off it instead of shatter it into a million pieces. Although it’s stopped the rhino. For now. When it halts, it seems more confused than afraid, and she can see the anger rising within it once again.

“Krav?” she says. “You know I love you, bud, but that’s not going to work.”

He glances back at her, and it's then that she sees his face betrays no confidence, no certainty, no bravery. Only nerves. “I know.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“Kravitz—” she starts, intending to tell him she can handle it, to tell him to run, that he’s been through enough and she can protect him. She can protect them all. Even if her immortality has vanished. Even if her form is shifting. She can do it. She will do it. 

He cuts her off. “Go,” he hisses.

She frowns. “But—”

“Lup, I survived certain death twice already,” he tells her. “I got this one. Go.”

She glances back up at the rhino. It’s preparing to charge again. She won’t survive if she’s hit by it. 

“Don’t die,” she says. 

“If I do,” he tells her, “I’m giving you a one-time-only necromancy pass to resurrect me.”

Lup scrambles to her feet, sprinting out of the way of the rhino’s path before it has time to charge at her. When at last she hears heavy feet sending ripples through the ground, she’s already headed toward the pillar in the room’s center. When she glances over her shoulder, Kravitz is diving to the side, just narrowly dodging the rhino’s aim. She returns her gaze to her goal and, from behind her, hears the sound of a wall cracking open once again.

She skids to halt in front of the pillar. The shadows are worse from up close, she thinks. There’s a dark outline of fingers and palms and claws pressing against the thin membrane of tar and slime of the column, threatening to break through. She grimaces.

Lup’s going to need a lot of power to kill this thing. A lot of it.

She scans the room. Everyone else is fighting their own battles— Magnus and Merle, who have no magic between them, both fending off shadows with axes of varying quality, while Taako takes out a shadow creeping behind them— Barry and Davenport, using their magic to defend each other— Kravitz, no scythe, no magic, helping a frightened yet brave Angus— Lucretia, eyes squeezed shut, brow furrowed, oblivious to all things that aren’t her shielding spell. Lup can do this one by herself. She should do this one by herself. 

Lup draws her magic out of the well inside of her, pulls it through her veins, feels it like a hair being tugged from a throat. It converges in her wrist, gathers in her palm, pools there. Her hands begin to burn. 

It won’t be enough. She needs more, she thinks, as she presses her hands against the pillar. Fingers and palms and claws reach for her, scratch at her. She ignores it. Instead, she focuses on willing more magic into this spell. This needs to work. She won’t let the Hunger terrorize the people she cares about. Not back in the days of the Starblaster. Not now, when everything is on the line. Not ever. 

Magic travels to her in short, mild bursts. Warmth spreads from her palm to her fingers, burning, burning, burning. The skin there prickles.

Lup was stuck for so long. Lup did nothing for so long. Lup got herself killed and missed ten years of her brother’s life, of her boyfriend’s life, of her best friends’ lives, and when she at last is found, none of them know who she is. Their memories had been altered. Wiped. Every moment she ever spent with them, every morning spent watering the plants with Merle, every late night incoherent conversation with Magnus, every single day she endured by Taako’s side, miserable but made better by the fact that they had each other— gone. She couldn’t stop it. She was alone and trapped and she couldn’t stop it. 

Here, she has power. Here, she’s got freedom. Here, she can protect them. 

It’s not enough. Once again, it’s not enough.

She wills the last dregs of magic within her to her hands. It burns. It burns so badly, but she can do it. She can withstand it, for the sake of her family. They can’t keep fighting these shadows forever. 

Lup notices she’s trembling. She pays it no mind.

Building all the magic she has stored, concentrating it, preparing to unleash it, Lup presses her hand against the pillar.

And then she removes it.

It’s still not enough. This is all her magic— all her power— and it’s not enough. She knows it isn’t. It was never going to be enough. 

Her mind begins to race. How is she going to destroy this pillar? How is she going to protect them from the shadows that escape from it? How—

From the corner of her eye, Lup sees a hand reach out and place itself upon the pillar’s surface. She glances over. 

Kravitz. 

“Hey,” he says. “I saw you trying to do magic over here. You sure do like to burn stuff up, don’t you?”

“Kravitz,” she says. “You— Krav, you don’t have magic right now. You don’t have your scythe. You’ve got to—”

“I’m sure I can find some way to help you out.” He shifts his gaze. “Even if it’s just, uh, moral support for right now.”

She purses her lips. “Are you sure?” she asks. “Staying here while I cast this is going to make you a target. The Hunger doesn’t exactly like being set on fire.”

“I’m fine with that,” he says. “So long as I get to stick by you.”

She snickers. And then, making certain to exaggerate, she says, “Awwww.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “Shut up.”

From beside her, yet another hand presses against the pillar. She knows who it is without needing to look. Taako. 

“Hey, chucklefucks,” he says, leaning his weight against the column. “You probably want someone who can actually, like, cast spells to help you kill this thing, right?”

Lup wants to hug him, to throw her arms around him and hold him close, but she restrains herself. “Hey, Taako.”

“‘Sup,” he says. “What are we castin’?”

“Some high level spell,” she tells him. “Whatever you got.”

Another hand reaches out against the column. She barely needs to glance over to figure out who it belongs to. “Will you guys be mad if I do a necromancy spell?” asks Barry.

At the same time Lup says, “Fuck no.” Kravitz replies with, “Absolutely.” She assumes that Barry will do it anyways. Either way, she isn’t snitching.

From beside her is yet another hand. Merle, this time. “Pan isn’t really talkin’ to me at the moment, but I can try anyways.”

“I appreciate it,” she says. 

Then Magnus. “I can punch it real hard.”

“I appreciate that, too,” she tells him.

And then Davenport. “I haven’t cast much in a while,” he says, “but if the opportunity to hurt the Hunger presents itself, I’ll take it.”

“Thanks, Cap,” she says.

And, finally, a tiny hand among the rest. Angus. “My magics may not be as powerful as yours, Miss, but I know a little, and I want to help!” He shoots her a big, toothy grin. Dork. 

Lup shifts her gaze to Lucretia. She’s lost in her shield spell, her eyes squeezed shut, the skin over her knuckles stretched taut, and she knows there’s no way she has any clue what’s going on around her. But if she did— if she opened her eyes— she thinks she’d be here, with her hand on this pillar. She wants to protect them, after all. She just doesn’t realize she doesn’t have to do it alone.

She takes a deep breath. “Are you guys ready?”

A tight nod from Davenport. A lopsided grin from Taako. A big, cheesy thumbs up from Magnus, and then from Angus, who copies him. Around them, the shadows creep closer, circling them. If this doesn’t work and they end up reaching them, she doesn’t know how well they’ll be able to fight them off.

“Okay,” she says. “Let’s go.”

And Lup casts Meteor Swarm.

The force of it travels along the pillar like a shockwave, rippling throughout it, traveling up and up and up and past where her vision reaches. It collides with other spells, converges, swirls together until it becomes an amalgam of bright, colorful magic, attacking the Hunger, ripping holes in its exterior. It glows with pinks and greens and yellows and purples and blues and reds and everything all at once, bright and blinding, contrasting against tar and shadow. Within, the Hunger writhes. The monsters they feared fighting dissolve back into the tar they were composed of, one by one by one, revealing the soul beneath— still infected by Hunger, but harmless. Able to be separated, eventually. 

Just when she thinks she can no longer stand to look at it— when the bright lights consuming it have become too much— the four meteors she’s summoned rain down from the sky, colliding right in the center.

There’s a flash, and that brightness travels across the entirety of the room. When it subsides and she at last regains her vision after a few moments of blinking and ear-ringing, she notices there is no longer a pillar beneath her hands, nor are there any shadows coming for them. They’re safe here. For now, they’re safe here.

Lup takes a deep breath, if only to settle herself. She knows that this moment of peace will be brief. The Hunger has more than a few souls to spare and she’s quickly running out of energy to fight them. 

She turns her attention to the shining bubble of silver and blue and pink that sits in the room’s center. Inside is Lucretia, her hands clasped around the staff, channeling the shield spell. Lup needs to stop her. She needs to stop this. The problem is that she doesn’t know if she can anymore. She doesn’t know if she was ever able to.

This is something Lucretia isn’t willing to give up. Lup knows that. She’s known it for a while. But if she could see reason— if she could talk some sense into her— then maybe— maybe—

She walks forward, a few feet from the bubble. “Lucretia.”

Her eyes shoot open. She shudders.

“You’ve got to realize what you’re doing,” she says. “You’re cutting this plane off. Merle won’t have a god anymore. Kravitz won’t have a home.” She pauses, and then, “We. We won’t have a home.”

“It’s the only way,” she tells her, and she sounds tired, even if her eyes don’t look it.

“I don’t know what’ll happen to Krav or me,” she says. “We’re dead, ‘Cretia. The Raven Queen gave me my body. I’m held together by magic and Scotch tape.”

“I can’t stop it,” she replies. “Not now. Not anymore.” 

“Please, Lucretia. If you stop—”

“And do what?” she asks. “The Hunger is here. We have no choice.”

Lup is silent. Arguments die in her throat.

She’s right. Of course she is. 

It’s too late.

“I’m going to save us all,” says Lucretia, and then the bubble goes dark, and then there’s a burst of light, and then Lucretia and her shield are gone.

She reaches out, but she’s already vanished.

“Where—?” She asks to no one in particular. “But—?”

She feels a hand grasp her shoulder. It’s Taako’s. She knows from the weight, from the familiarity, from the touch alone. She doesn’t think he’s put a hand on her shoulder in over a decade. She doesn’t think he’s leaned against her like he used to, linked arms with her like he used to, hugged her like he used to in over a decade. It’s comforting, she thinks. She’s missed being his sister.

“Let her go,” he tells her. He’s not sad. Not confused. Not worried. Just angry.

‘Is she—” She sighs. “That’s not— She left so we wouldn’t stop her,” she says. “I— I don’t— Is she okay, you think?”

“We can only hope she isn’t.” There is a thinly-concealed rage in his voice.

That catches her by surprise. In the one hundred years they’ve spent together, he’s never wished her harm. Not really. “You don’t mean that.”

His expression falters, if only for a moment. 

“Come on,” is all he responds with. 

She turns back to the room’s center, taking a slow yet short stroll back to their group. 

Davenport has gathered everyone into a tight circle in the space where the Hunger’s pillar used to be. Lup knows he’s giving orders before she even reaches him. He’s pointing, pounding a fist into his hand, his brow furrowed, determination in his eyes. As soon as she rejoins the group, she hears, “-- Angus, I need you to help me sleuth out where Lucretia’s hiding so we can talk her out of this.” And, then, Davenport’s attention turns to her. “Lup! I need you, Barry, and— who are you?”

Kravitz purses his lips. Poor dude, Lup thinks. In just a couple of days, he went from befriending only her, Taako, and his boss to fighting in an apocalypse alongside people he’s known for a few hours. “Kravitz.”

“I need you, Barry, and Kravitz to find the Starblaster,” he says.

“You got it, Captain,” she tells him. “Please tell me you’re not gonna dip as soon as we find it, though.”

“Lup, I’m still part of the team,” he says. “I wouldn’t leave you.” 

“Aw.”

“Unless you start annoying me too much.”

“Cap, I would never.”

“M’hmm,” he says. “I’ll believe it when you find me that ship.”

He breaks off from the group, instead beckoning for Taako, Magnus, and Merle before leading them away.

Upon the huddle dissolving, Barry and Kravitz make their way towards her. Both of them seem nervous, although she thinks their reasons probably differ: Kravitz, because he’s well out of his comfort zone, Barry, because he just regained his memory a few minutes ago, and both because they’re in the middle of an apocalypse. 

“I don’t know what he’s talking about when he says he wants us to find a ship,” says Kravitz. “I just got here.”

Barry sighs. “You’ll know it when you see it, buddy.”

“That ship was forty feet and weighed over a ton,” Lup says. “Where the fuck did she hide it?”

“She built a fake moon,” Barry tells her. “I get the feeling hiding a giant space boat was pretty easy compared to the rest of the shit she’s been able to do.”

Kravitz cuts in with, “Hey, you guys, I know it’s rude to ask about people’s salaries and all, but how is this organization making profit? Where’d she get the money for all this?”

Lup shrugs. “My guess is on tax fraud.”

“I’d say a big heist,” Barry adds. “Or tax fraud.”

“The Fantasy IRS is deffo gonna be on her ass after this,” she says.

“It’d have to be in, like, a secret hangar, right?” asks Kravitz. 

“Yeah, a secret hangar built with her tax fraud money,” she agrees. “The only problem is we don’t know where she built it.”   


Barry nods thoughtfully. “To hide it from the Fantasy IRS.”

“Exactly.”

“Why would the Fantasy IRS come to the moon at all?” asks Kravitz.

“Right. Didn’t expect tax evasion on the moon. Exactly why she put everything up here,” she says. “No one ever thinks to check the moon.”

“Think of all the tax fraud happening in space. In other planes, even,” Barry says.

“Yeah. Yeah.” A pause. “Hey, wait a minute, Kravitz, do you pay taxes?” 

He purses his lips. And then he shifts his gaze, clasps his hands behind his back, and goes, “Um…”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, we were accusing poor ‘Cretia and we’ve got a criminal mastermind in our midst already.”

“I’m legally dead! Legally dead,” he says, a tad defensive. “Besides, I don’t think the IRS is interplanar.”

“He’s so criminal that he went to hell just to avoid paying his taxes.” She clicks her tongue. “What an awful dude.”

“Lup, you don’t pay taxes either. You’re not a citizen of Faerun at all,” he points out. “Did you not notice that?”

She’s quiet, and then, “I haven’t paid taxes, in, like a hundred years, man, I didn’t really pick up on it.”

Barry runs a hand through his hair. “My God, the IRS is going to be after us all.”

“Hey, you guys, I know I said I didn’t want to hop on the Starblaster and jet, but the more I think about taxes, the more I kind of want to,” she says.

Behind them, Merle, Magnus, Taako, and Davenport have separated. Taako slinks over, hands behind his back. Before they can even ask what Davenport spoke to him about, he whips his hands around to show them a shining, silver glaive in the shape of a throwing star. Lup recalls it from the cycle in which they made their weapons in the Hanging Arcaneum— the cycle in which she made the umbrella. She was so proud of it at the time. She doesn’t like to think much about it now.

“Hey, compadres,” he says. “Guess who completely forgot about this badass weapon I made, like, twenty years ago, and who is now gonna use it to stab the Hunger.”

“M’hmm. That’s the nerdiest looking weapon I’ve ever seen. Hey, Taako, do you pay taxes?”

He rolls his eyes and drops his hands to his sides. The KrEbStAr he was just trying to show off goes largely unnoticed. “Do you even know me? Of course I don’t pay taxes.”

“Yeah. Yeah, no, for sure, for sure, deffo.” She leans towards Barry and whispers, perhaps too loudly, “We’re probably going to prison, babe.”

Barry releases a loud sigh and buries his head in his hands.

Taako waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I live on the moon. No one pays taxes when they live on the moon. Anyways,” he says, “I think we’ve got bigger problems to worry about here.”

He gestures towards the sky, which is no longer a deep black speckled with stars, but rather a swirling mass of muddy gray and jet black, choked by ropes of bright reds and greens and blues. In place of clouds are pillars of tar, connecting to the world below, draining it of all life. The grass no longer holds much color beyond a pale shade of green. The air seems to have been weighed down by a light gray fog. Nothing shines like it should, glows like it should, feels like it should. It’s been dampened by the Hunger’s presence. Her heart crawls into her throat before it decides to plummet to her stomach. She’s seen this before— the destruction, the consuming of all things, whole planets decimated by the Hunger’s greed— and while all of those times were awful, this time is worse. This time, her family and friends are here. This time, Kravitz is here. This time, it’s final. 

She tries not to let on how nervous she really is. Instead, she swallows the lump of fear lodged in her throat and says, “We’re going to defeat it this time. For good.”

Taako pats her on the shoulder. “Yeah, for sure. Hey, no one’s complimented my cool weapon yet. I just find that real heartbreaking, especially since it’s so cool.”

Despite herself, she smiles. “It’s—”

Before she can finish her sentence, there’s a ripple beneath her feet. It’s not enough to knock her down, but it’s noticeable. It’s definitely not as strong as it was when the pillar descended. This time the quake is more distant. Muffled.

And then another one. This time a bit stronger. She balances herself as best she can.

“What the fuck is going on?” she asks.

Another one. Without warning, she breaks into a sprint, running through the frame of what used to be a glass window and onto the quad outside.

The quad itself has been completely destroyed. The grass has grayed almost entirely, drained of the bright green it had once been. Pools of tar lay on the ground, bubbling, choking, but no souls break through. Buildings are decimated. Shattered glass is scattered across the ground. Where the stars once were is now only a blanket of void that wants only to consume, unfathomable, unyielding. Her stomach twists.

Her eyes wander to the land below. From here, she can see Neverwinter burning. From here, she can see Rockport in smoke. From here, she can see Goldcliff crumbling. From here, she can see the destruction of everything she hoped to save.

Another rumble in the ground. It’s stronger again. Why does it keep getting stronger?

Lup breaks away from the landscape and instead turns her attention to the four separate tendrils that have stabbed themselves into the ground. There emerges four separate statues, twenty stories tall, dripping with tar and streaked with neon. And they’re getting closer. They’re after  _ them. _

The Judges.

“Court’s in session,” says Barry. 

Beside her, Kravitz’s nervousness radiates off of him in waves. He lifts a shaking finger to point at the approaching Judges, turns to her, and says, “Okay. Okay, uh, I haven’t been keeping up with— with material plane stuff, you know? I don’t— I don’t know what kind of, uh, what kind of, uh, what kind of stuff they have. I— Is— Is this—”

“What, Krav?”

“Is this the Fantasy IRS?”

She bites at the corners of her lips to fight the grin she feels coming on. At least Kravitz always has a way of making her feel better. “This is what happens when you don’t pay your taxes, Kravvy. Remember that.”

He shifts his gaze to the Judges, mouth agape. 

Taako walks up to her side, staring straight ahead of her. Straight at the Judges. “We’ve got to find something to do about this. They’re going to kill us.”

And Lup breaks her gaze away from the sight in front of them. She’s no longer staring at the Judges, at the pillars, at the all-encompassing sky of the Hunger. Instead, she decides to look at the land below. The burning Neverwinter, the smoking Rockport, the crumbling Goldcliffe. All suffering.

And the glass circle of Phandalin, right in the middle.

The dome is broken. She feels almost as if she could run towards it, jump off and fall right through. Plummet to the ground.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ve got a plan.”

And then she runs, and runs, and runs, and takes the leap. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!!!!!!!!!!!  
> how are you guys? ive been good!!!! if you're experiencing some of this Bad Weather, i hope you're doing well!!! i have been living under my blankets recently. yesterday i went outside to walk my dog and somehow the entirety of my driveway was water with a layer of snow and ice on top, so every step i made the ice caved in. not very fun nor cool. however for some reason every single one of my dogs just loves to eat snow for some reason so this has been a good experience for them  
> hope you liked this chapter!!!! they are all together again now!!! how neat is that. next chapter will be around 10k again! i actually had to split it in half because i realized it was going on way too long. smh. HOWEVER i think y'all will enjoy it!!!!  
> NEXT CHAPTER: taako casts a spell. merle greets an old friend. and SOMEONE RETURNS...  
> tumblr: nillial

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy!!!!  
> alright, so if my outline is anything to go off of, this is gonna be A Bit of a Long One. my first long fic, in fact! i'm pretty excited! however, i'm pretty busy with school at the moment, so new chapters may not come as quick as i would like. feel free to check my tumblr for updates on how things are coming along!  
> (by the way, despite writing a fic for a dnd podcast, i barely know anything about dnd, so if i get a spell wrong or something... im sorry :0 )  
> im going to try to gauge interest with the first couple chapters to see if folks actually want a lup-kravitz friendship fic or if this is purely self indulgent, so please leave some kudos or a comment if you liked this and would like to read more!  
> hope you enjoy!  
> tumblr: nillial


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